Seven Steps from Humanity
by At the End of Dreaming
Summary: VENJIX's army wasn't just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes**: For background information, common terms, notes, warnings, and disclaimer, please see my livejournal post here: http:/ dream-edge. livejournal. com/ .

7 Steps from Humanity

Part One: The Beginning

Chapter 1

Summer Landsdown buried her hands in the rich soil of her garden at the family manor, smiling warmly when the steady pulse of the earth filled her mind. It was time to plant the new row of flowers, adding to the already immense garden. Her family had maintained a primary Witch bloodline for the past seven generations and each one had added to this garden at least once in their lifetime. Then again, her predecessors had all had a strong connection to earth magic; Summer, though, had only a minor connection to the earth. Her talents lent themselves more towards the psychic branch of magic, specifically empathy.

It had been a struggle to learn as the psychic gifts were rare, even among the Fae, and Andrews, who had been with the family long enough to have taught her mother, was as firmly grounded in earth magic as the rest of her family. However, years of struggling had eventually allowed her to maintain a strong control over her empathy.

She lifted her head when Andrews' psychic scent washed over her, telling her of his approach. The man was getting very old, requiring a tonic at each meal to sooth his bones, but he had been her faithful companion and almost-parent for all her life, had taught her more about magic and the careful etiquette required among the races than her parents ever had. "Good morning, young miss." He said with a smile as he knelled next to her. He paid little mind to the fresh soil now coating his pressed dress pants. But then, those with a primary Witch bloodline rarely cared if they were covered in dirt. "I have managed to receive word of your parents."

Summer stilled as she reached for a spade to help with the turning of the earth. Her family had been considered the masters of their craft for the past five generations and every slightly magical crisis required their attention. VENJIX was hardly a slight problem. Her parents had been in conference in Washington for months before heading south to help with the erection of rune-wards on the United State's safe cities. "How goes their mission?" she asked in quiet, formal tones as she finally continued her work.

"They have finished the conjuring of the rune-wards in Corinth and should now be heading west to Albyon." Andrews informed her.

"That's good." She said pleasantly. Andrews watched her for a minute before reaching for a tool himself. "If I may, young miss?" he asked. At her nod, he set to.

Barely half an hour later, Gabriella, the woman in charge of keeping the household running smoothly, ran out of the house. Her normally orderly brown curls were mussed and her blue eyes were over-bright with terror. Gabriella was the only member of the household that wasn't one of the woodland kin; instead, she was Human. Despite the fact that on a purely physiological basis, everyone in the manor was stronger than her, Gabriella was rarely intimidated- actually most of the household would admit to being a little afraid of the woman. Summer stood up quickly, heart in her throat, as the normally composed woman rushed towards her.

"Miss Summer! It's started!" Gabriella shouted half-way to them. Summer froze, the world going still around her for a second, before she forced herself to cross the last few steps between herself and Gabriella and gently grasped the woman's shoulders. "Be calm, Gabriella." She said, her voice heavy with authority and power.

Gabriella paused, her eyes glazing over as her emotions were forced into order. "Are you calm, Gabriella?" Summer asked. Gabriella nodded. "Alright, good." Summer said with a slight smile, maintaining a constant wave of calm over Gabriella's rocky emotions. "What's happened?"

Gabriella visibly braced herself; Summer grimaced as she struggled to force back the sudden spike of fear. "It's VENJIX, miss. He's attacked; full-out invasion of Washington."

While Summer stilled, turning white, Andrews stepped in. "Thank you Gabriella. Stay quite calm; we've planned for this, remember? Alert the staff, stay calm, stick to the plan." He ordered smoothly.

Gabriella nodded shakily and quickly headed back inside. The two watched Gabriella go before Andrews turned to her. "Center yourself quickly, Miss Summer. We need to move without hysterics." He encouraged before following in Gabriella's wake.

Summer take a deep breath, struggling to do as Andrews recommended before glancing up at the sky with trepidation. The wind carried an odd taint from the north. She shivered, took another second to calm down, then walked into a house gone half-mad.

Within the hour, the household was packed and shuffled into vehicles and following the carefully planned route to Corinth. Summer was packed into a Hummer with Andrews, Gabriella, and a younger man she though worked in the kitchen who had been given control of the wheel. "We're nearly two days from Corinth, Miss Summer."

"Government should have evacuated people earlier." Gabriella complained, leaned forward in her seat as she scanned the radio for news. Not that it mattered; VENJIX was managing to block most radio signals, had been for days. They had been lucky to have gotten any warning at all.

Summer sighed heavily, leaning her head against the door. "There was too much chance of alerting VENJIX that Corinth was important. If we'd evacuated, It would be heading to Corinth instead of Washington. You know that."

Gabriella huffed, trying to mask her fear with irritation; it wasn't working very well, she was pale white and Summer was honestly waiting for her to drop into shock. The matron's fumbling fingers continued to play with the radio, producing only static, until a voice suddenly blared through the speakers. They all started in surprise; the signal was oddly clear and the voice so terribly young.

"That's the voice that warned VENJIX had attacked." Gabriella said and frowned at the numbers that voice was listing. "What is that?"

"The coordinates of Albyon." Summer said.

"_Please hurry. We don't have much time." _The voice said before there was dull silence. After a moment, it came back. _"Please listen. It's started. The VENJIX army is marching on Washington. You need to head now to Corinth on the East Coast or Albyon on the West." _

"It's just a recording." Andrews said, leaning back in his seat. Summer frowned at the road before them, at the growing population of cars.

"Change route." She ordered, making them look at her in surprise. "Screw the plan. We need to get off this road before we get jammed in."

The driver hesitated briefly before swinging onto a side road as suggested. It took longer but eventually they were free of the city; Summer glanced back to find the main road at near stand-still. A few cars had followed their new route and she was pleased to recognize two of them as from her household. With a relieved sigh, she leaned back in her seat again and let herself relax.

At some point, she fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the steady motion of the Hummer. She dreamed of fire and chaos, of the world disappearing beneath her feet. She woke to a world gone upside down, with the sky blood-red and the taint of VENJIX hanging heavy in the air. She coughed, her mouth dry with dust, grimacing when fire shot up her collarbone. She weakly raised her head and found it was not the world that had flipped, but the car.

"Andrews?" she called, coughing again and blindly reaching for the release button for her seatbelt. "Gabriella?" Abruptly, the seatbelt released, sending her crashing to the roof of the car. She whimpered with pain, opening her eyes to see the kitchen boy hanging in his seat as she had. She muffled a scream that was quickly replaced by a sob. The left side of his face was one long, open gash peppered through with glass, and his psychic scent was already fading into the feel of the dead. She closed her eyes, forced herself to ground her emotions, and pushed her gaze to the other passenger seats. It was empty, though Andrews's psychic scent hung heavily upon the upholstery still.

A soft, whimpering groan drew her attention to the front. "Gabriella!" she called, forcing herself up and to the door. All the windows had been blown in and pieces were scattered everywhere, biting through clothes and denim the whole way to the door. By the time she managed to force the heavily dented door open, her arms were bleeding sluggishly and a bruise was slowly forming across her collarbone and down her chest.

She tumbled out of the Hummer, whimpering in pain and horror as her hands landed on the ground and VENJIX taint bled across her senses, making her stomach roll unpleasantly. She laid on the ground in a crumbled heap, her breathe sobbing out of her, before she forced herself to move. Her hands were shaking by the time she managed to get the passenger side door open and it took careful maneuvering before she was able to unbuckle Gabriella without risking hurting her further.

By the time she pulled Gabriella out, she could hear feet shifting over the ground. She nearly sobbed in relief when Michael's-the witch-boy whose father did her parents' finances- psychic scent washed over her. She tried to call out, but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and her throat was tight and dry.

The foot steps turned towards her. "Miss Summer?" Michael called, approaching her quickly. He knelled in front of her, his expression going slack with relief when he saw her. "Miss, I am so glad you're okay." He breathed, resting a careful hand on her shoulder. "You're alright now. It's okay." he said, turning to shout over his shoulder for the others.

She blinked heavily, tears slipping down her cheeks, and managed to ask, "Ha-have you seen An-Andrews?"

Michael smiled weakly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, but he's in bad condition." He said as other members of her household appeared and carefully took Gabriella from her and helped her stand.

She was escorted to another car quickly, all but shoved into the space between two seats because there wasn't anymore room. All of the seats were filled with the injured and barely lucid. The seat she was sitting in front of held Andrews. He really was in a horrid state; his left eye was swollen shut, his forehead was gashed open, his lips were cracked and bloody, and his clothes were torn and stained with blood.

"We think he's bleeding into his brain." Michael said solemnly. "Amelia's car was attacked, same as yours, so we lost our Healer."

Summer held in her whimper, leaned her forehead against the seat, and tried not to break down. Her household had once been 30 strong; now it all fit in two cars. "I see." She finally said blankly.

There was a moment of silence behind her before Michael's hand reappeared on her shoulder. "Miss," he said gently, "I should clean your wounds before they become infected."

She agreed dully. Michael sat himself in front of her and set to the cleaning of her wounds, sometimes forced to dig out pieces of glass. She all but ignored him, gazing around at her household sluggishly. "We need a bigger car." She mumbled.

"Should we hijack a bus?" someone from the front asked. Summer couldn't tell if they were trying to be sarcastic or not.

"Yes." She said anyways. There was a long moment of silence before a mutter of agreement reached her. Satisfied, she leaned her head back and tried to relax.

They must have drove for hours- though they were still somehow behind enemy lines- before fingers started to brush through her hair, weak and shaking slightly. She didn't quite jerk, though it was a close thing, and looked behind her. Andrews was staring at her with one eye, red and already watering, while the other remained firmly swollen shut. "How are you doing old friend?" she asked quietly, grasping one of the old man's flailing hands in hers.

"Poor, witch-child." He answered. "All of me aches and I am very old."

"You'll be alright." She told him "It'll be alright."

He gave her a weak smile. "No, Miss Summer. It won't."

"Miss Summer!" The driver called before she could respond. "We've found a bus. Should we hijack it?"

Andrews gave a weak grasp of her hand. "Go take care of them." He breathed. She blinked back heavy tears and nodded, patted his hand gently, and stood up. "Let's go." She ordered, stepping out of the car and hurrying across to where an old school bus was sitting half-off the road. It was in one piece, which was more than could be said for the other cars. It took only a few minutes before everyone and the few supplies they still had were loaded into the bus and got the engine running.

When she turned around to their old Hummer where Andrews still laid, Michael grabbed her arm and held her in place. "Miss Summer, I don't think you should." He told her in his gentle way. She turned to stare at him when the feel of death crept over her. "No." She whispered, "He's fine."

"No, Miss Summer. He's not."

She closed her eyes tightly to ward off the tears and pressed a hand against her mouth. "This isn't happening." She breathed quietly. Michael pulled her towards the bus, urging her in a quiet voice that they had to go. She glanced back at the Hummer where Andrews's body still laid, hating that he wouldn't even get a proper funeral. Finally she took a deep breath and walked away, trying not to crumble before everyone. "Get us out of here." She ordered the driver in a blank tone.

"_Go take care of them."_

-0-0-_  
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They were barely an hour from Corinth and the taint of Venjix was still washed into the land. It was obvious where the machines had been forced to use magic against the human army because that magic had sunk back into the earth and changed it. The sky looked less blue and more gray; the grass was withered and ugly yellow. Summer was glad that she had only a minor connection with the earth branch; those of her household who had that connection were ill with fever and hallucinations that got steadily worse as they got closer to Corinth and the true battlefield.

Summer stared out the window at the desolate wasteland her world was becoming with a heavy heart. Her mental shields were raised as best as she could manage but the emotions of the others still leaked through, making her feel off center. As the world passed her by in a blur of gray and yellow, an odd psychic scent washed over her. She jerked upright as the rich, dark psychic scent of the demon kind brushed against her senses. Her gaze sharpened as she tried to pinpoint where it was coming from; it was definitely one of the demon kind, masculine, and with a slight oddness that marked his minor bloodline as something other than one of the demon kind. It was weak but alive. She stood up quickly. "Survivor!" she shouted, making some of the more lucid people jerk. "Pull over!"

Within seconds, the bus had pulled to a stop and Summer all but leaped through the opening doors as Gabriella, now thankfully awake, tried to call her back. The older witch was ignored in favor of the dull blue clad figure laying face down in the ground. She knelled next to him, taking a moment to run her eyes over the man's uniform jumpsuit. Pilot, she decided, eying the wings on the uniform. Finally, she rolled him over and reached for the helmet latches.

The man was black, dark curls held back in a military style cut. His eyes fluttered open briefly, revealing the blood red irises common among the demon kind. He gazed up at her dazedly, blinking slowly as he struggled to focus. His psychic scent was bitter with hunger. Summer nearly drew back when she realized which of the demon breeds laid before her. She spun around to yell at those still lingering nervously in the bus. "I need a knife!" She shouted. While they scrambled to obey, she turned back to the man. "It's going to be alright." She assured.

"_No, it's not." _Andrews's voice whispered through her head. She bit her lip harshly, shaking her head briefly to will away the memory. _Don't think about it._

Finally, Michael scrambled over to her with a kitchen knife. She grimaced but took it, eying the dull blade apprehensively. Demons were unique in that, unlike the other races, the only food that could sustain them had to come from another person. Each race required something different but the demon before her was easy to accommodate. She took a deep breath and quickly sliced through her palm, blood immediately pooling into her hand. The Vampire before her twitched and focused his red eyes on her palm with greed; however, his expression twisted rather quickly and he turned away from her. "No." He moaned pathetically, trying to slither away from her, even in his injured state.

She frowned tightly, clamping down on her annoyance before it could bleed through her mental walls. "Freely offered, freely taken." She said soothingly, the ritual words to offer to the demon kind without becoming prey. Those words had been used since the demon kind had emerged and by now were well ingrained in their instincts. The red eyes focused on her, centuries of trained instincts trying to respond to those words, though something in him still resisted.

That, of course, was when she placed the oddness in his psychic scent. By this point, the races were so intermingled that there were no pure-bloods; it wasn't unusual for an oddness to appear in a psychic scent as minor bloodlines slipped to the surface. The oddness in the man before her was from the Human race. Although the humans had eased remarkably in the last few decades, they still had their prejudices. Especially against the needs of the demon kind. Most demons that grew up around Humans ended up with a twisted shame about their needs. She grit her teeth, annoyance flaring into something almost like rage, and said as calmly as she could manage. "Freely offered."

There was a brief hesitation before the man carefully reached up and grasped her hand and quickly drank the cooling blood from her palm. Summer grimaced as the teeth scrapped across her palm but otherwise ignored it as best she could. After a minute, the man let go of her wrist and collapsed back on the ground, eyes going hazy and distant. She turned to Michael. "Help me get him into the bus." Michael looked uneasy about it but did help.

The bus was soon moving again as they settled the man in the back. The Vampire was trying to assist but he was still weak and it was an obvious struggle for him to even support his own weight. Once Summer was sure the man wasn't going to tumble off the seat, she knelled next to him. "What's your name?" she asked gently.

He gazed up at her with glazed eyes, half-asleep, but managed to answer. "Scott, Lady."

She offered him a reassuring smile. "Hello Scott. I'm Summer." She said pleasantly. "What happened to you?"

"I… I think I crashed." He said. "Got turned around and walked in the wrong direction."

She gently placed one hand against his forehead, rubbing circles in his skin. "Sleep now Scott." She whispered, even as she carefully manipulated his emotions until they were woven around him like a cloak. His eyes fluttered before finally falling fully shut. Soon, Scott was so deeply asleep Summer doubted anything could wake him.

-0-0-

The group hadn't gotten much farther when two more survivors were found. Unlike Scott, these two were in remarkable condition, a little torn and definitely dirty but overall in good health. One was a little Fae girl, blonde and beautiful, wearing a sweet periwinkle dress, and maybe only 8 years old. The second was a Human, early 20s with a Scottish accent the girl delighted in. The Human was remarkably sweet-tempered and quietly brilliant; his psychic scent was accented with the feel of magic. Summer suspected he had a Witch or Fae bloodline in there somewhere.

"We need to slow down, Lady." The Human man advised. "VENJIX drones are everywhere around Corinth. It's a miracle me an' the lass didn' get caugh'."

He didn't need to say it really; by this point, the taint of VENJIX was so thick one could almost choke on it. The driver was already slowing without any input; Summer was considering ordering a complete stop until a better assessment could be obtained. "Do you know what's happening?" she asked.

He drew a weary hand over his face. "No' really." He admitted. "They came ou' of nowhere. It was chaos. Everyone was fighting."

Summer sighed heavily. "Do you know if the wards held?" she asked; the man merely shook his head.

"Is she yours?" she asked, looking over at the little girl curled asleep on a seat. The man looked briefly confused before laughing heartily and shaking his head. "No, Lady. Aye don' know who the child is." He smiled abashed and blushed slightly. "I have something of a hero complex."

She smiled warmly. "There is nothing wrong with that." She assured, earning herself a winning smile.

Eventually, they did stop and, when they nearly got discovered by a VENJIX patrol, retreated. "We should wait for nightfall." Summer advised, leaning against the driver's chair. The Human, Flynn, had taken over driving so the Fae who had been doing so could rest. He glanced up at her with blue eyes laced through with woodland green. "Good idea Lady." He agreed, eyes returning to the front to search for a safe place to hide. When Summer sighed and leaned even more heavily against the seat, Flynn said, in a voice oddly heavy with magic, "We'll make it through."

Summer blinked as she felt weaved magic settle over her and looked at the man next to her. "You're a luck granter?" she asked in surprise, though she knew she shouldn't be. Those with a minor magic bloodline didn't have the power to connect to one of the Branches so the magic developed in odd ways. One of the rarer ways that happened was the luck granter- or ill-wisher, if you upset them- who could change fortune with only a few words. It was impossible to tell a luck granter from their psychic scent, making them even more dangerous.

Flynn nodded and almost said something when a muffled groan interrupted them. Most of the household had fallen into an uneasy sleep, unable to stay awake after the two day drive; though a few, like Michael, remained stubbornly awake, moving little. The dark figure in the back was moving restlessly now, slowly struggling out of her sleep spell. She stood up and patted Flynn on the shoulder. "Drive us true."

"Always." He agreed with a smile.

Summer returned the smile and walked down towards her first straggler, motioning Michael away when he rose shakily to assist her. She knelt down next to Scott and banished the sleep spell with a touch to his forehead. Scott rose easily out of his nap. "Easy now." She cautioned when he glanced around anxiouly. "Do you remember where you are?"

Scott blinked up at her and licked his lips nervously. "With your household, Lady Summer." He said in a scratchy voice that made her wince in sympathy for his throat.

She nodded. "That's right. Would you like some water?" she asked. Scott sat up slowly, grimacing and holding his left arm close. "Yeah. That'd be nice." He said, looking relieved until she reached for the knife she'd placed on the seat across from Scott.

"Blood first." She said.

"You don't need to do that." Scott said hurriedly, reaching for the knife before she could reopen the wound on her hand.

Flynn called back to them before she could snap something about his bull-headedness. "If anyone's bleeding for 'em, Lady, it should be me. Of everyone here, Ay'm the one in the best condition."

"_No one _is bleeding." Scott said stubbornly, managing to wrest the knife away from her. "My Vampire bloodline is recessive; I can go much longer without blood than a Vampire born from other Vampires. None of us can afford the blood loss." He stopped, looking tired. "Can I just have some water?" he asked plaintively.

Summer sighed heavily but agreed and stood up to get it. "How close are we to Corinth?" Scott asked, gladly accepting the half-full water bottle Summer had found in a stray bag.

"Abou' half an hour." Flynn called back. "We had to pull back. Place was swarming with drones."

Scott nodded and stood up shakily. Summer tried to push him back but he ignored her, using the backs of seats for support as he shuffled to the front. Summer glared at the back of his head, huffing irritably. _Stubborn males_, she thought as she followed him. Scott sat down when he was even with the driver's seat, leaning back against the console. "If I may make a suggestion, Lady?" When she nodded, he continued. "We should run VENJIX's line at twilight."

"Tha' sounds dangerous." Flynn said before she could. "There's too much chance they'll see us."

Scott nodded. "I know." He agreed with a smirk. "They'll never see it coming." He looked back at her. "You run at full dark, they'll be waiting."

"Ye're crazy." Flynn said before sighing heavily. "Bu', ye're right."

Scott's smirk widened briefly before he looked up at her and the smile fell away completely. "Your household lady. Your decision." He said quietly. She watched him for a long minute. "Alright. Twilight it is." She agreed. She paused than sat down in front of him. "Do you know how the attack was going?"

Scott's expression shut down. "Venjix hit the Russian safe city first; learned about the rune-wards and turned his armies towards the other safe cities. The last I heard, New Berlin, Stone Hedge, and the Vatican were holding strong; however, what was left of Russia is gone, along with France, Spain, and most of Italy. We lost contact with most of South-eastern Asia around midnight on the first day. Around 9 A.M. on day 2, Japan's Honshu island was sunk; fucking drones used magic to call up the sea. About an hour before I crashed, we received word China had been nuked." He paused, looking at them sadly before he sighed and told them. "Albyon fell."

-0-0-

Scott eyed the setting sun apprehensively. "Time to go." He said to the man next to him. Flynn made a sound of noncommitance in the back of his throat, looking at the sickly expanse of gray and yellow before them. "We can do this." Flynn said; it wasn't the first time he had said it and Scott found it immensely comforting each time.

He glanced back at the Witch who was assisting them. Lady Summer was shaking her household awake for the run. Scott would admit to being very relieved to have that much magical firepower behind him during this run. Most Witches had been kept behind the battlefield to power the rune-wards and so few Fae had managed to reach Corinth before their lines had been forced to retreat, so they'd had little magical support in the battle before he'd crashed.

"Ready, Lady?" he called back. Summer looked at him, woodland eyes surrounded by sleep bruises. Her hair might have once been blonde but now it was an ugly brown-gray and was slowly falling out of it's messy bun. A fine layer of dust had settled over her skin, her arms were covered in angry red scratches, her collar was purpling, and she couldn't close her hand from the scabbing wound there. She might have been pretty under normal circumstances, but as she was Scott was surprised she was still standing.

The Witch sighed heavily but nodded and headed towards them. "Grulla is trying to call in a storm but it's fighting her." She reported. "All the earth branches are out of commission; this taint is really playing havoc with their senses."

"We'll make do." Scott said. Summer nodded and turned away to give out further directions to those who were still well enough to defend them. Scott glanced at the man next to him and silently hoped this one, who so far had seemed blessedly level-headed, would not have the typical Human pride that refused to admit that Humans were considered a Passive race. He couldn't deal with that argument right now.

He settled a hand on the back of the driver's seat, right behind Flynn's shoulder. The Scotsman glanced up at him briefly. "I should drive." Scott said calmly.

"I can handle it." Flynn said, jaw clenching and hands going white-knuckled on the wheel. Scott resisted the urge to sigh; stubborn Human pride. Why did he always have to deal with it?

"I'm not saying you can't." He soothed. "However, of the two of us, I'm the one with the faster reflexes." He dropped his hand onto Flynn's shoulder and squeezed, cutting off whatever the man was going to say. "And, of the two of us, you're the one with the magic." Flynn looked up at him for a minute as his hands loosened on the wheel. Finally, he stood up and let Scott settle in.

Flynn clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Fair skies and well days." He wished, the spell settling around Scott like a warm cloak. Scott smiled slightly and nodded to him as those with a Fire Branch came to his side. "Everyone ready?" he asked as an odd wave of calm came over him. He glanced back, finding Summer sitting on the floor in a meditative pose, woodland eyes glazed over and staring blankly ahead.

"Right." He said when several affirmatives came back to him. "Let's ride, then."

There was no describing the chaos that chased them to Corinth's walls. The walls themselves rose before them, pale white and covered in glittering runes. Those walls had just appeared when the drones emerged and the world went to hell. Scott cursed as he was once again forced to swerve around another ruined truck suddenly then yelped as a blast from one of the drones following them knocked off the bus's driver side mirror. One of the witch-boys next to him went tumbling with the motion, making Scott wince.

It was a relief when one of Corinth's gates appeared and slowly opened for them. Once the gate was open far enough, soldiers poured out, quickly established a defense line, and sent a few soldiers out further to help. Scott stifled another curse when a Harpy glided quickly over the hood to land on the roof. In the far mirror, he could just make out one of the drones going down, chest exploding with bullets. The Harpy let loose a chilling battle-cry, half-wild and full of blood lust, before continuing.

Scott was only too happy to pass through the defense line and finally into the city. He turned around in the seat to watch the gate close behind him, meeting the Lady Summer's eyes on the way. She offered him a wan smile, looking dazed as all the strength that had held her household together slowly fell away now that they were safe. He nodded to her and reached for the control that would open the door.

His hand paused on the handle as his senses went out and he noticed the psychic scent coming their way. He gulped thickly but opened the door for the Witches waiting to leave. Settling his head on the wheel, he tried to steel himself for the meeting he'd have to face. And then the formal military debriefing. He grimaced, unsure if he was more worried about the debriefing or the dinner that would follow. He wondered if Flynn's luck spell would last that long.

"Scott?"

He looked up to see Flynn standing on the stairs, the Fae girl he'd saved clutching at his fingers and swinging their arms. Flynn was watching him curiously. "Ye comin', lad?" he asked cheerfully.

Scott nodded and stood slowly, watching Flynn step off the bus and make a beeline for one of the soldiers to hand off the girl. He stood at the top of the stairs for a minute before slowly descending into the city. He took a brief moment to admire how the ruin-wards kept out the virus so the sky was still a sweet periwinkle and the grass on the sides of the road was still healthy. Then his gaze turned from landscape to people and locked with the eyes of the one person he'd been hoping to avoid. So much for the luck spell.

_Ah, fuck_. He thought as Colonel Mason Truman, one of the most accomplished military leaders despite being from the passive Human races, approached him. Scott held in his sigh and forced his weary body to straighten, saluting.

"Airman." The Colonel greeted.

Scott hid his resentment and nodded. "Colonel." _Not even a hey, happy your alive, Dad? _He thought bitterly, though he couldn't say he was honestly surprised.

Colonel Truman gave him a searching look. "Report to the command center for a debriefing." Scott blinked as his father turned away, ready to protest the brisk treatment and the order. The quiet flap of wings and a long shadow falling over him stopped him. The Harpy from the roof landed in front of his father, large, dark tawny wings still held aloft; the woman's slightly avian facial features were lit with fury.

Scott went tense all over, carefully eying the woman who was using her wings to tower over his father. While Harpies weren't considered the most dangerous Predator race- that honor belonged solely to the Dea al Mon- but they had the most vicious temper and claws that were more like talons. "Colonel." The Harpy said in a terrifying croon that put a shiver up his spine. "Take a look at the child. He needs rest." The Harpy turned a sharp smile onto Scott, eyes still full of battle-lust, and he decided he wasn't going to protest being called a child if it got her on his side. "Surely the debriefing can wait until tomorrow."

His father glared at her but, unable to disagree, changed the time. Mason glanced at him, dark eyes guarded,and nodded at him. "See you tonight." He said as he turned to leave. The Harpy's wings lowered as she stepped to the side.

Scott sighed heavily. "Yes father."

-0-0-

It was cold.

Her parents had been in Albyon. Albyon had fallen and her parents had been there. No word on survivors, barely a jumbled message as the city was overrun.

Her household was down to nine members. Half were still recovering from the poisoning they had received outside the walls. Of the nine, only Gabriella and Rohan had held senior staff positions.

Andrews was dead.

Summer huddled in the bathroom of the house her parents had bought last month. She should be glad that her parents had thought ahead, that, unlike most of the refugees, she wasn't stuck in a tent until the government could find housing for her. But the house felt empty without the generations worth of psychic scents seeped into the walls or the plants climbing up the stairwells. The house felt dead.

"_No, Miss Summer, it's not."_

She felt cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**: For background information, common terms, notes, warnings, and disclaimer, please see my livejournal post here: http:/ dream-edge. livejournal. com/ . Information on different races now added.

7 Steps from Humanity

Part One: The Beginning

Chapter 2

Flynn should have been surprised. He should have been shocked, surprised, even confused. But he wasn't. When he arrived at the building that was slowly becoming his new home a week after he arrived in Corinth, he found Scott sitting on the couch in his father's workshop. He blinked at the man's sassy grin but couldn't manage to work up the surprise that should be there. Scott being here felt… right, normal.

"Huh."

Scott's grin slid away at the bland respond. "That's the best I'm going to get isn't it?" he asked, sounding disappointed.

Flynn nodded. "Aye." He looked around carefully. "An' where's my da'?"

"He agreed to look at my truck while I waited for you." Scott said, then leaned forward like he was sharing a secret. "He doesn't trust me." Flynn snorted, unsurprised. His father didn't trust anyone when it came to his son.

"Come on. Inside with you." He ordered, leading Scott into the living part of the building. "Wha' are ye doing here?" he demanded as he walked into the kitchen. "Wan' a beer?" he asked. Scott nodded and plopped himself down on one of the seat's at the island, taking a child-like amusement in spinning it around. Flynn resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If ye get sick, ye're cleanin' it up." He warned.

Scott's feet landed hard on the foot railing, pulling him to an abrupt stop. Scott didn't even seem slightly off-balance by the spinning, if his cheeky grin was anything to go by. Damn Predator races. "Wha' are ye doing here?" he asked again, handing the Vampire one of the beers he'd pulled out of the frig.

"Wanted to check on you." Scott answered, shrugging on shoulder. "Make sure you got settled in alright." The Vampire cast a speculative look around the open house. Flynn shifted, aware that the living room was only half-way painted, that the hallway floor was still bare, and that the whole of the house was still in need of furnishing. It was to be expected, considering the government had only managed to find him and his father housing two days ago; the only reason they had managed to get housing that fast was because they both had mechanical training the city needed to get itself on its feet.

Scott looked back at him, expression blank. "It looks nice." He said.

"Don't mock me." He snarled, magic gathering with his anger. So easy to give it direction, to say words in anger that could ruin Scott's whole day- maybe a week, maybe his life if Flynn wasn't careful-, to follow the channels Flynn had carved as a child and hadn't been able to seal. Too easy to ill-wish, so hard to give out the kindness of luck.

"I'm not." Scott said, spreading both hands wide. His voice was soft, filled with a quiet yearning that made Flynn pause, that made the anger die. No, not mocking. Just a quiet, half-acknowledged heart wish for a house that, even if unfinished, was at least home. Flynn sighed and grounded the power, let the anger go.

"Have ye word of Miss Summer?" Flynn asked carefully.

Scott's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah, actually." He said. "She uh… she fell into shock not long after we arrived." Scott informed, then, when he saw Flynn's wide eyes, hurried to explain. "She's alright now."

"That's good." Flynn managed to get out, knowing he sounded strangled. He turned his attention to the beer in his hand and drained most of it in one gulp. "How are ye holdin' up?" he asked.

Scott shrugged, playing his fingers through the precipitation on the bottle neck. "I'm alright. I've got a tense home situation. My father doesn't… approve of my… needs."

"Ye mean blood?" Flynn asked. When Scott nodded, he rolled his eyes. "That's stupid."

"He's _old-fashioned_." Scott said, voice bitter. "My brother's great but he's Human. He doesn't _get it_." Scott paused then snorted. "Great. Now I sound like I'm twelve."

Flynn couldn't stop the sharp laugh that burst from him at that; Scott frowned at him briefly then smiled slightly and shook his head. "Oh hey. I almost forgot." Scott said, sitting up a little to pull a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Flynn watched in curiosity as Scott carefully unfolded it and smoothed it out before passing it to him. He took it carefully, looking over the… application? Was this an application? Yes, that's what it was. For… Flynn squinted at the top of the page before his eyes widened. "Project Ranger?" he asked, looking up at Scott in shock.

The Vampire smiled at him somewhat cryptically and stood up. "Think about it." Scott said, and saluted him with his beer. "Thanks." He called, before walking out. Flynn didn't follow. He stood in his kitchen and stared at the paper on his counter and finally let himself consider Project Ranger.

-0-0-

This was such a bad idea.

Flynn stood awkwardly among the crowd of people waiting for consideration for Project Ranger. He was very aware that of the multiple people here, he was the only one from a Passive race, if one ignored the random Witch here or there. Flynn was, because they had full battle magics and were well respected among even the toughest of the Predator races. Already he was getting a few hostile looks from those around him, though most seemed set on ignoring him.

This was all Scott's fault. He hadn't been planning on coming, really. He'd almost managed to push the thought of Project Ranger out of his mind. Then Scott had waltzed in and all but shoved the application form at him. He knew this was something for the Predator races, that a Human didn't belong on the team, that merely coming today would give his dad a heart attack. But Scott had said to think about it and once he had, he couldn't stop.

So he'd come. He'd come because he had a Hero Complex that was going to get him killed and no one who could distract him. He should have expected the quiet hostility.

Quite suddenly, an arm was slung over his shoulder, drawing his gaze to the petite woman next to him. He went very, very still because, _holy shit_, a Dea al Mon was hanging from his shoulders. A small, Asian Dea al Mon, but still from the best Predator race on the planet.

Dea al Mon were called the Children of the Wood because they were the first of the woodland kin, the first to display the woodland eyes, and because they were the perfect hunters. They were half-wild and always vicious in battle and if they weren't born knowing what to do with a knife, it didn't take them long to learn. They didn't have metaphysical abilities, but they were the fastest and the strongest race, the only race that was resistant to magic, as well as one of the few that could smell magic. Even an fool knew to fear the Dea al Mon.

Flynn glanced at the hand lying innocently across his shoulders, so close to his throat, and was almost relieved to see the rumors that Dea al Mon had claws much like a Harpy were wrong. Almost, because he could see the bulge in her long sleeve where a knife was hidden.

"Hey-a!" she said brightly. "I'm Gemma and that's-"

"Gem, her brother."

Flynn bit his tongue to hold in his curse, turning his head to look at the other Dea al Mon that had snuck up on him. He was so going to make Scott's life a living hell. "Hi." He managed weakly. "I'm Flynn."

Both grinned at him with smiles that were oddly comforting. "What-cha doing-"

"-here Flynn?"

He eyed the two carefully, wondering if the way of talking was just to throw people off or not. He wouldn't put it past a Predator race to be a little unhinged. "I … uh… a friend convinced me to come."

"Really?" Gemma asked, gazing up at him with eyes that saw too much of him. "That's all?"

"Mostly." He said carefully, aware of the brother shifting closer to him- and out of his line of sight. "I have a Hero Complex."

"Really?" The brother asked from somewhere behind him, in a tone that was identical to the girl's. "That's nice."

"Not so much. It's really quite a pain."

There was a flash of warm humor from both of them that made him relax. "Can I help you?" he asked unsurely.

Gemma's smile was almost sweet. "You already have." She told him. Her arm disappeared from his shoulders, causing him to shiver from the lack of warmth, and before he could say something, she disappeared into the crowd. When he looked behind him, the brother was gone as well. He blinked. How did two Dea al Mon disappear in a crowd of people that would prefer to be five feet from them at all times?

"Flynn!"

He turned around, already tired of being startled and confused and found Scott pushing his way through the crowd towards him; Flynn wondered if Scott's mouth hurt from how big his smile was. "You came!" Scott said, sounding delighted. Once the man was close enough, Scott reached out and pulled him into a tight, short hug. "I almost didn't think you would."

"I shouldn' be here."

"Nonsense." Scott said, shaking his head. The Vampire held him by his shoulders and looked at him intently. "Flynn, I honestly believe we wouldn't have made it here without you."

Flynn was already shaking his head before Scott had even finished. "Aye had nothin' to do with tha'."

Scott's hands dropped from his shoulders as the other man frowned at him. "Yeah." He said, obviously coming to a decision with himself. "We're gonna have to work on that." Flynn wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, except…

"Ay'm never gettin' rid of ye, am Aye?"

Scott's grin was all the answer he needed. Flynn sighed heavily.

"I should be surprised, right?" a soft, feminine voice asked. Flynn focused his eyes over Scott's shoulder and was almost surprised to see Summer standing there. Almost, but not really. Summer was here. _Of course _Summer was here. Then Scott turned around, allowing Flynn a better look at the young woman and Flynn's growing smile faltered. Summer had cleaned up nicely from the last time he had seen her, but her hair hung in limp curls around her face that dulled the color to a pale wheat and put the shadows around her eyes into sharp contrast.

"Lady Summer?" Scott asked, sounding as concerned as he felt.

"Scott." She greeted, nodding at him with a quiet dignity that belied how truly exhausted she looked. "Flynn. I'm glad to see you two are alright."

"Lady, no offense, but you don't look so good." Scott said.

Summer gave him an irritated look. "Thanks." She drawled, with enough sarcastic bite to the word that Flynn felt some of his tension ease.

"Ay'm glad ye're here." He told her and really, he was. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how off it would have felt if only him and Scott had been here. She smiled at him warmly in response.

"EXCUSE ME!" A voice called, strong and clear, making the whole room turn. A Fae woman stood upon a platform on the far side of the room, looking at them all with cool woodland eyes. Once she deemed she had their attention, she continued. "My name is Dr K; I am the head of Project Ranger. While it is a pleasure to see so many of you wishing to defend this city, there are already two Rangers, so I am only looking for three new Rangers at this time."

The doctor made a quick motion with her hand and quite suddenly, she wasn't the only one on the stage. Flynn heard a few quick intakes of breath as the Dea al Mon twins appeared on either side of her. "This," the doctor said, slight smile now gracing her features, "is Gem and Gemma, the Gold and Silver Rangers respectively. As you can see, both are Dea al Mon. If anyone here cannot work with Dea al Mon, please leave now."

There was some anxious shifting of feet but no one moved to leave. Flynn glanced to his left to find Summer had gone white and Scott was completely tense.

"Good. Now, the Ranger technology requires very specific physical requirements. I can tell you now that not all of you will will meet those requirements. Those who do will be asked to stay for an in-depth interview. I do not know how soon we will be able to determine the chosen candidates, but I will try to keep you all informed. If at any point during this process, you feel you can no longer give this team your full and complete dedication, please contact us and retract your application immediately. This team can afford no distractions." She gave them all an obviously false smile and beckoned them with her hand. "Please follow me for testing." She said, and headed into another room,

As the crowd started moving around them, Flynn turned to the two people who were almost friends. "Good luck." He said, more than said because the world was bending around the two in response. He couldn't stop his soft smile as the luck spell took hold. "Let's go then." He said with a smile.

-0-0-

Flynn ached. It wasn't even that good ache that signified a long day of good, hard work. No, this was the ache that said he'd pushed a little too far and would be paying for it in the morning. All the same, he was glad to be out of that room. And away from the other candidates; he expected hostility, he hadn't expected it to be quite so obvious. "It's a death trap." He muttered to Summer, whose arm was wrapped around his. He wasn't sure if he was leaning on her or the other way around, but it made sure neither of them ended up on the floor.

Summer huffed an agreement. Scott, who was walking an exact two steps behind them, looked like he'd barely gone for a hard run. "Fuckin' Predators." He said under his breath. Summer giggled.

"This way." She said, tugging him away from the center of the room where couches and chairs had been put out for candidates when they finished testing. He looked at the comfortable chairs longingly but allowed himself to be dragged to the corner of the room; he wasn't stupid enough to distrust an empath's instincts. If she wanted him over here, there was a reason. Flynn sank quite gladly to the floor and leaned back against the wall, letting Summer rest her head against his shoulder. Scott remained standing, watching the rest of the room carefully.

When Flynn also looked, he was slightly relieved to notice that he wasn't the only one that looked ready to fall over. He even thought he saw a few Predators all but passed out on the couches. He wasn't sure how long he sat and watched a steady stream of people leave the testing room- some confident, others limping and pale-, it had to only be a few minutes, but eventually he had to move. "Summer let me up. Aye need a drink." He said.

Instead of lifting her head, Summer clamped a hand around his upper arm. Scott straightened from his slouch. "I'll get it." The Vampire said. There was something a little… queer about his voice. Flynn didn't notice, frowning at the both of them.

"The table's righ' over there." He said, motioning to the table that had refreshments laid out. It was only a few feet from where he was sitting; it was also surrounded by other candidates. "Aye can walk tha' far."

Scott turned on his heel to look at him. Scott's red eyes were glazed and almost sleepy; the sign of a Predator sliding into a cold rage. "I'll get it." Scott said again, except now his voice was more of a croon.

Flynn shivered and nodded. "Alright." He agreed, not willing to provoke someone sitting that close to the edge of a rage. Scott gave him a lazy, terrifying smile and turned to get them drinks. Flynn gulped thickly and looked at the woman sitting calmly next to him. Of course Summer had realized Scott's temperament. _Thanks for the warning_. He thought. "Did Aye do something wrong?" he asked.

"Not you." She said and there was something in her voice that made him take a much closer look at her. She was angry too. Red hot, because Passive races couldn't sink into a cold rage, but just as terrifying.

He thought for a moment then asked, "Because the others were tryin' to sabotage my scores?" he asked.

Summer's eyes snapped over to him, losing the sharp bite of her temper in favor of her surprise. "You knew?"

"Ay'm Human, not blind. They weren' exactly subtle."

"You're not angry?"

He gave her a look that was part annoyed and part befuddled. "Ye didn' see it coming?" he asked. Someone might as well have slapped her for the shock that spread quickly across her face. "Summer, Ay'm Human. Do ye understand what it means for me to even be attemptin' this?" he asked her. Though she nodded, Flynn could see she didn't. Not yet.

"They're trying to sabotage you because of your race?" she asked and she sounded quite like someone had shattered something fundamental to her world. "Racism is not that bad." She said.

"It's not." He agreed. "But, Summer, it's the end of the world and this is Project Ranger. It's not about prejudice. It's about 'em, making sure Aye don' get picked so someone they see as stronger can take my place. They don' think Aye can protect 'em."

"That's not right." She insisted.

He smiled at her sadly. "Welcome to life. It rarely ever is."

A hand fell on his shoulder, making him start. For a single moment, Summer's anger snapped through the room. Then Flynn raised his eyes to meet Scott's cool eyes and Summer's walls slammed back into place, taking the rage with them. The air might as well have been sucked out of the room in seconds for the effect it had. Flynn watched as others gasped and stumbled, eyes blown wide. Yet he felt stable, as if the rage had washed right by him each time, leaving him untouched. Scott's hand shook where it rested on his shoulder, but none of it showed in his expression. "Thank ye." Flynn said, as if nothing had happened, and calmly took the drink. Scott nodded and returned to his position slouching against the wall.

It was another half an hour before the last candidate walked through the doors. Flynn could honestly say that he was feeling much better at that point, not that he wanted to do it again cause he still hurt. The doors to the training room closed then and remained closed for several moments before opening, allowing the young doctor and the two Dea al Mon to exit. Dr K was carrying a stack of small folders.

"Once again, thank you all for coming. If I call your name, then I'm afraid you did not make the requirements to handle the Ranger equipment. If I do not call your name, then please remain for the interview." Dr K said, then turned her attention to the files in her hands. Flynn tensed, waiting for her to read his name from the top of the folders she was handing to Gem. But then she handed another folder to Gem and Flynn realized suddenly that it was the last one, and yet no mention of Flynn McAllistair.

As he stared at the three in disbelief, Gem's eyes drifted from the middle of the room to their little corner and looked right at him. The Dea al Mon smiled at him and nodded, a little movement that would mean nothing to anyone else. There was nothing compared to the euphoria that washed through him then. He had made the cut.

As Gem turned his attention back to the majority, tucking the files he'd been given under his arms, Dr K offered another false smile. "Thank you for coming, but your presence is no longer needed here. Please leave."

Summer made a sound in her throat next to him. "That woman has some serious damage." She muttered under her breath. He started to smile, stopped, then realized. "You made it." He said.

The Witch stilled, then turned to look at him with eyes blown wide. "So did you." She breathed, then looked up at Scott, who was making no move to join the slow crowd of people leaving. "We made it." She said, the start of a wide smile growing on her face. Scott looked at her with a matching smile; his temper was definitely warmer now, though he remained closer to that edge then Flynn would like. "So we did."

"If the rest of you will please remain here for a few minutes, we will begin the interviews shortly." Dr K said, then turned to leave.

"Wait a minute." Someone said, Flynn thought it might have been a Fae. "_He_ made it?" The tone of voice made it impossible to mistake who the man was talking about. Flynn stood up immediately so he could move quicker, despite the fact that the movement could be conceived as a challenge; Summer followed only a heartbeat behind. Scott snarled a warning; the temperature of the room plummeted as Scott slipped right over the edge into a cold rage.

Dr K turned back to them, examining the room with cool eyes. Finally, she looked right at him. "Name?" she asked.

"McAllistair." He told her. She nodded at Gem, who turned and entered the testing room. When he emerged, there was only one file in his hands, which he handed to the doctor. She glanced through it with a speed that told Flynn the file was just a formality, she knew exactly who he was and what his scores were.

"He passed." She said to the room. "Barely, but he passed." She looked up with eyes that had gone a few degrees colder. "Then again, the barely wasn't really his fault now was it?" she asked in a tone designed to scathe the skin off bone.

"He doesn't deserve to be here."

What was left of Flynn's drink froze over.

Scott's growl echoed through the room. He took a step forward but Summer's sharp call of his name froze him in place. Flynn tensed with no little fear; the Vampire was all coiled muscle and a brutal rage that would kill half the room before it died and the only thing that was holding him back was the will of one little Witch who wasn't exactly happy.

_If there's a fight_, he thought as strongly as he could, _then Scott has to win_. There was a brief hesitation, then the world shifted to his will. He couldn't change everything, if the Dea al Mon stepped onto the killing field across from Scott, the Vampire was a dead man; but against the others, Scott's military training would make up for what the spell couldn't change.

"Who are you to decide that?" the doctor demanded and now she wasn't so warm. "Leave, now." She ordered when she received no answer. "While you still can."

The man growled and turned away, Scott's glazed eyes tracking him the whole way. Flynn was just starting to relax when the air grew heavy, the man turned and flung out one hand, and the magic blasted towards them. There was one brief second where, for the first time, it occurred to Flynn that he never bothered to change his own luck. Why didn't he do that? He could.

Then Summer's hands curled in his collar, his arm was around her waist, and he wasn't sure which one of them moved first but they both ended up diving out of the way. Scott was half-way across the room before they even hit the floor. When Flynn looked up, he found Scott only a few feet from the Fae man.

Only Gemma had gotten there first.

The knife in her hand wasn't the one from her sleeve, couldn't be. The one she was holding was a wicked curved thing, the blade serrated and brutal. Flynn glanced at the Fae man crumbled on the floor and wished he hadn't. Dea al Mon always went for the throat, so the slash that had opened the man's neck clean to the spine wasn't a surprise. There was no reason, however, for the cut that had opened the man's gut and splashed his innards across the floor.

Scott stared at Gemma and whatever Scott saw in her face was enough to startle him straight out of his rage. He stepped back, looking uneasy, and Gemma turned to regard the rest of the room. "Anyone else?" she asked. Flynn would freely admit that his spine turned to gel at the terrible, calm fury in her voice.

The doctor sighed and shook her head, completely unfazed. "I had promised the Colonel no one here would die, Gemma." She said, but there was no accusation in her tone. Gemma turned to look at the doctor, expression still queer. Then a warm flash of humor lit up the room as the deadliest predator in the world willing stepped back from a killing field. "You're right." Gemma said. "I should have let the Truman boy do it." Then she nodded her head towards Scott.

Flynn rocked back in surprise, staring at his friend. Truman? As in Mason Truman, the man who was the current military leader of Corinth? Scott glanced back at them and grimaced but didn't disagree with Gemma.

The Dea al Mon casually wiped the blood from her knife on her pants leg before lifting the back of her jacket and placing the knife back into its holster. When the jacket fell back into place, the knife might as well not even be there. Gemma returned to her place at K's side.

"I think," the doctor said slowly, staring at the corpse on the ground that no one else wanted to look at. "That considering recent events, we should postpone the interviews for another day." She nodded. "Yes, I think that's best. Please report here this time tomorrow. Thank you." That said, she turned and entered the testing room. Gem followed her in; Gemma continued to watch them all, a smile that was too wide gracing her features.

For a long moment, no one moved, watching Gemma as intently as she watched them. Then Scott moved, turning to look at him and Summer with tired eyes. "I need a drink." He said adamantly.

-0-0-

Doctor K stared at the files that were currently hiding her desk from view. One file for every person willing to become a Ranger. There were so many to choose from; she would have to explain every decision to Corinth's military leader. It was supposed to be General Carl Lattern, a Lord of the Woods whom she had worked with rather well once she'd escaped the Soup facility. However, General Lattern had died in the Battle and his 2IC, Colonel Mason Truman, had taken command; Truman was a fine military leader but on a purely personal basis, he rubbed her wrong. Thankfully, his son Marcus had taken on the duties of 2IC and knew how to work with her way of thinking.

She approached her desk slowly, considering the multiple piles. She'd hoped to be able to shorten the number of files with the interviews; however, that fool of a Fae had all but put the knife in Gemma's hands. She shivered slightly in remembrance.

The Fae were a Predator race; she was as capable of that cold rage as the twins. She had felt the twins in the grasp of the cold rage before. She knew how to deal with it. But it had been the oddest feeling to stand between them, firm in the knowledge that she could leash their temper if she needed to, and then…

"_He doesn't belong here._"

And then, in a heartbeat, they'd been riding the killing edge. She had stood between them, the cold burn making her hands ache, and known with a startling quality that this time, they wouldn't yield to her will. Even if the man had walked away, K knew he would have been dead before the day was out.

But the man had attacked and Gemma had acted. _Gemma _had acted. The twins had decided without words that if they needed to act, Gemma would do it. Gemma, who was faster but also crueler. Gemma, who had slit open the man's stomach, even though she hadn't needed to. Gemma, who shined brightest in battle, who cared if she was covered in blood and body parts about as little as a Witch did covered in dirt.

She had never seen them go cold that fast before. She hadn't even known it was possible.

K shook the memory away. She had known the two were going to be tense with that many unknowns in the room with her. Any hostile action around her, who they called Pack, was going to end in death. While such a reaction was frowned upon, it wasn't unexpected.

She turned her attention back to the files. The twins had organized the files for her- she had needed them occupied while she contacted the Colonel. No doubt they'd gone ahead and put their favorites on top. The twins had been silent judges throughout the whole process, taking note of the things she couldn't pay attention to. They had a way of disappearing into a crowd; it wasn't a Dea al Mon trait, merely something from their training at Soup, but somehow they could make the eye slip right over them without the brain registering they were there. They had hid among the candidates, unnoticed unless they wished to be, and listened.

There were probably notes, in the twins' precise, identical handwriting, throughout the files. The twins could be very opinionated.

There was a single file, not in any pile, sitting strategically in the middle of her desk. She picked it up with a fair bit of trepidation; the picture stapled to the top page punched the air out of her. McAllistair. Her hands shook as she forced her gaze away from the photo. There were sticky notes; violently pink sticky notes pasted everywhere. One said '_Good man_', another was '_luck-granter_'. Then, at the bottom: '_has a Pack, vampire and witch_.'

Humans weren't a Pack race, neither were Vampires or Witches. None of them were born with the fierce protectiveness of the Pack bloodlines. However, if a Dea al Mon looked at the three and saw Pack, then they could be called nothing else. She could guess the Vampire was the younger Truman son; and, indeed, when she looked at the pile of Demon Kind applications, Scott Truman was the first file she found. The Witch pile, which when she looked was combined with Fae, was topped by a young blonde named Summer Landsdown. She placed the three files side by side and stared at them. Pack.

Then she acknowledged what she'd been trying to avoid.

The twins had gone cold long before the Fae man had lashed out. They had not been responding to perceived threat to _her._ They had been responding to a very real threat to McAllistair. And Gemma had acted.

"Gem! Gemma!" She called and picked up McAllistair's file as the two entered. She showed them McAllistair's photo and wasn't sure what to think of the way the two immediately tensed. "Is he Pack?" she demanded.

The twins glanced at each other. "Will it affect your decision?" Gemma asked, and of course the two were thinking about that instead of the very real possibility a Human man resonated with them.

"Of course not." She said hotly. "You know me better than that."

And because they did, they told her the truth. "Yes."

It took a great deal of effort not to react as she wanted. Instead she restrained herself to a single nod and turned back to the files on her desk, replacing McAllistair's with the other two. "Alright, thank you. You may go."

A single beat of silence, then the soft scruff of shoes against tile she could only hear because they wanted her to.

K let herself slump when she confirmed they were gone. Packs were formed over years; one could be friends with someone from a Pack race for ages before becoming Pack. It was a slow strengthening of bonds that no one could explain. Except, sometimes a Pack race met someone who they resonated with, whose personality fit so well with theirs that they were Pack immediately. They were more than Pack, they were equals.

She didn't resonate with either of the twins. She was Pack because Soup had put them together and somehow, she had become their friend. She had worked with them for years and then one day, she had woken up and she had been Pack. But she didn't resonate with them.

McAllistair did.

She closed her eyes and thought long and hard about the character of a man that would allow him to resonate with not one, but two Dea al Mon. That would allow a Human to run with Dea al Mon as equals.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes**: For background information, common terms, notes, warnings, and disclaimer, please see my livejournal post here: http:/ dream-edge. livejournal. com

7 Steps from Humanity

Part One: The Beginning

Chapter 3

Doctor K had started the interviews with 34 candidates. She ended with 16.

Every candidate wanted to help. Most, however, did not have the personality and conviction needed to give as much of themselves as Project Ranger demanded; most would not be able to trust their team as completely and immediately as was required. Of the 16 she had left, the twins brought it done to 12 due to personality clashes.

So now she sat in the room she had been given at the new building that was to be the base for Project Ranger, the 12 remaining files spread around her in a half-circle. Those files contained more notes now, her own as well as the twins. And others. She hadn't been the only one in the interviews, after all. Colonel Truman had asked to sit in on the interviews; She had allowed it because the Colonel was going to have to work closely with the Rangers. She hadn't liked the idea of him being there, of him having any say in the interviews, but that was merely because of how fiercely possessive of this team she was. And because the Colonel was there, Marcus was there as his 2IC. She was just glad the mayor had acknowledged that she knew very little about military procedures.

She was also glad she'd managed to negotiate with the twins on their presence in the interviews. Gem had been in the room with her, sitting silently in the corner unless he felt the need to say something. Gemma had been in the main room with the candidates to ensure no one cause any trouble; K had no doubts they had remembered her.

She had 12 to choose from. One chance to get it right because once they were bonded to the Power, there was no second guessing. She had to find the best, the strongest. Except… Except Marcus had advised, as he and his father had packed and moved to leave, that _"You're not looking for the best candidate. You're looking for the best team."_

He was right of course. Team compatibility was part of the reason she had eliminated so many candidates. It was also the reason three of the files were still in the running. Three files the twins had been tense about through the whole interview process; though she had steadfastly not acknowledged it. She pulled those files towards herself. The edges of the files were rough now, frayed from the many times she had looked over them.

Landsdown, Summer. McAllistair, Flynn. Truman, Scott. None of them were the best in any area, though all were surprisingly well-rounded with at least average scores in all areas. All had very good reasons for her to choose them; all had very good reasons for her to throw them out.

Landsdown was damaged, in mind more than body. Her spirit hadn't been broken, not yet. But she'd been bent, and there were scars. The signs of trauma were there if you cared to look, shadows written across her eyes and psychic scent. There had been a strength in her though, strength enough to show that she would heal if given the chance. K wasn't sure Project Ranger would give her that chance. Being a Ranger would be as mentally and emotionally taxing as it would be physically. The stress of that could prevent her from healing, might even cause a backslide.

However, she was a fully-trained empath. Someone who could not only sense emotions but influence them. If any more Predators joined the team, the ability to push someone into a calm would probably be not only appreciated, but necessary. With the amplifying abilities of the Ranger Power, the ability to push someone would become a very powerful tool, possibly to the point of being able to pull someone out of the cold rage.

"_VENJIX has taken something from everyone and everything from far too many. Everyone has scars now Colonel. All I want is to prevent Venjix from making more._" Landsdown's words, said in response to the Colonel's stated concern for her reasons for fighting VENJIX and possible need for revenge. Landsdown believed she could be a Ranger. K agreed, perhaps precisely because she had lost so much to Venjix. However, due to her recent trauma, there was no way K would be able to put her on the team unless her Pack joined her.

That brought it down to McAllistair. Of the three, he had scored the lowest. Of all those left, he had scored the lowest. Even with the others' interference taken into account, she doubted McAllistair would have scored over the lowest average quartile range. Even he had admitted it. It was the last question always asked, _"What do you think you can offer to this team that the others can't?"_ Everyone else had given her some sort of ability.

McAllistair had been the first to look her in the eye and tell her with complete and unashamed frankness: _"Nothin'."_ He had admitted, freely, that the other candidates were all stronger and faster than he was, that must of them had some form of metaphysical ability that could outmatch him. He had even admitted that his luck-granting could do little against real combat training, which he didn't have.

Yet, when asked why he was there at all then, his one answer had been merely that "_Helpin' people is who Aye am."_ There had been so much strength in him then, when he said that he couldn't _not_ come, that he had to try. That interview had left her oddly satisfied; through most of it McAllistair had seemed so ordinary. Yet that last question, something in him had changed, had settled in him, leaving a being that was self-assured without being arrogant, that was noble and somehow stronger than any other candidate she had seen that day. _That_ was the kind of man who could run with Dea al Mon as an equal.

She almost wanted to put him on the team, almost, because she didn't like how the other candidates had reacted to him yesterday. Everyone but Truman and Landsdown had emitted a quiet hostility; the last thing she needed was the team split right down the middle,which would happen because the twins would always side with McAllistair. So McAllistair had joined Landsdown; the only way he would become a Ranger was with the rest of his Pack.

Then there was of course Truman. Three Trumans actually, all stubborn, annoying males in their own right. If the youngest Truman did make it onto the team, the first thing that was happening to him was family counseling. Somehow, the Colonel had been unaware that his son was applying for Project Ranger until he had walked into the interview room. Which was strange, because K had told Marcus of his brother's involvement in the mess with the Fae man when she'd reported the incident; apparently that part had been very carefully edited out by the time it got to the Colonel. Only her quick intervention during the interview had prevented a full on squabble.

Scott Truman did not have Landsdown's damage or McAllistair's weakness, but he had Issues. From what she had seen of him, it did truly deserve the capitalization. Not only with his own needs, but with his father, which could cause problems as his father was also Corinth's military leader and someone they would have to work with on a daily basis.

But of all the remaining candidates, Truman had the best scores. He was a soldier, and according to his military record, he had a penchant for reckless maneuvers that turned out to be amazing strategy. He was also good with team building, at knowing who could do what, what their limits were, and how to best utilize those abilities_. _Of everyone, he was the one she'd choose to make team leader. The twins were amazing fighters and they worked together better than anyone she'd ever seen. But they only worked together. Another leader was needed to ensure they meshed with the group, instead of always doing things by themselves.

So unlike his friends, Truman remained very firmly in the running. The only reason she hadn't firmly decided on him was his issues with Colonel Truman.

She hesitated then decided the Colonel could learn to deal and placed the file for his son in her lap. One decided, two to go.

After that, there really didn't seem to be a choice. She wanted the best _team_. Individually, she never would have chosen them, but together, they somehow balanced out. They brought out the best in each other. Choosing just Scott was choosing only part of a puzzle. She sighed and grabbed the other two files as well. At the very least, she mused dryly, it would be easier to get two groups to work together, than three people and a pair.

-0-0-

The candidates mingled around the room as they waited to be called into the room. Three at a time, each to hear if they had been chosen to be Rangers. None came back out, leaving through a different room so as not to share with those still waiting for their turn. They mingled together, all except three who waited quietly in the corner, occasionally sharing a few words with each other.

Scott leaned against the wall behind him, sitting calmly between Summer and Flynn. Every so often, his leg would shift so his knee bumped against Flynn's; it never failed to bring a slight smile to the man's face. Summer was leaning her head against his shoulder, eyes closed as she pretended to sleep. Scott was sure she wasn't actually asleep, her breathing was too methodical for true sleep.

Going home yesterday had been tough. Mason had not been happy that Scott had not told him he was trying out for Project Ranger. Scott was 24, he was pretty sure he didn't have to tell his dad what he did anymore. Especially since he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it after the almost argument he'd had with his father during the interview; it hadn't been very professional.

Yet…

"Did that twin say anything to you guys?" he asked quietly, whispering the words into Summer's hair. Summer lifted her head up to frown at him. "One of the twins was in there?" she asked.

"Yeah. He was sitting in the corner. I didn't even realize he was there until he spoke. Scared the shit out of me." He admitted, grinning slightly.

"Gem." Flynn said quietly but firmly. Scott frowned and looked over at him. "What?"

"The male twin, his name is Gem." Flynn said, rather calmly, but there was an odd note of steel in his tone. Scott glanced briefly at Summer and from the expression on her face, she heard it too.

"Alright, Gem." Scott agreed, because you didn't upset an ill-wisher. "He say anything to you?" Flynn shook his head. "Huh." Scott said and looked down at Summer. She shook her head as well. _Just me then, _he realized and wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

He closed his eyes and remembered how, when he'd gone to leave, he'd caught movement out of the corner of his eye and Gem had suddenly been there_, _watching him intently. It had been chilling to realize the Dea al Mon had been there the whole time and he _hadn't noticed_. One did not just overlook the most dangerous Predator on the planet. _"When my sister killed that man," _Gem had said, _"It knocked you right out of the cold rage."_ It had, and he admitted as such. There had been something more than rage in her eyes, something more than the usual Predator wildness he was used to. That, and the knowledge she would tear him apart in seconds, had pushed him into warmth. Yet that hadn't been the question.

"_If you see her like that again, will it throw you?"_

"_No."_

There had been something very pleased in the Dea al Mon's eyes when he'd answered. Scott had wondered, briefly, if the man had been implying he _would _see the woman like that again, would have to fight beside her when she rested on the killing edge, and would have to keep fighting regardless. The thought of fighting beside all that unstoppable power should have been frightening. The knowledge that he'd have to place his life in that woman's hands when she danced on the killing field, that he would have to trust her not to turn that knife on him because she didn't trust him so close to her Pack, should have been sickening.

Scott had never felt so alive than when he considered it.

"…Flynn. Truman, Scott."

He blinked and raised his head when his name was called. Summer and Flynn were already standing up. The female twin-Scott thought her name was Gemma and that she didn't have very imaginative parents- was standing in the door to the other room, three files in her hands and watching them intently. Also, they were the only ones left. When had that happened?

Summer smiled at him, humor high in her woodland eyes. "Finally come back to the normal world, boyo?" she asked, amusement layered rich in her tone.

He huffed agreement and accepted the hand Flynn held out to him, letting the Human pull him to his feet. They walked slowly into the room, bumping shoulders the whole way. Scott wasn't sure about the others, but the contact eased the tight ball inside him.

The young doctor was sitting at the table, watching them with dispassionate eyes. His father and brother stood in one corner of the room. Mason did not look happy. Marcus did. When he looked at the twins, who stood opposite his father, he found they were positively giddy. That… was that a good sign or not?

Except… except then Flynn seemed to loosen, most of his tension just draining away. Something in him settled and a slight, barely there smile slipped across his face. When Scott looked over at him, Flynn was staring at the twins, they were staring back, and Scott was sure he'd just missed something.

The doctor cleared her throat, bringing eyes back to her. That was when he noticed the three boxes sitting on the table in front of her. His heart leapt. "You three have Issues." The doctor told them and it was so clear she'd capitalized it in her mind he wanted to laugh. "A great many Issues. I've been told that I shouldn't have chosen you." She paused then and glanced over at his father before saying with annoyance. "Repeatedly." His father coughed and looked away.

"Admittedly, Colonel Truman did bring up valid points that, if you had been alone, would have ensured you weren't chosen. However, I am not looking for individuals. I am looking for a team, and you three already are one. A very good one, perhaps a better one than I could have created on my own. You compliment each other. And for that, you are the new Rangers."

There was silence.

"Seriously?" Summer burst out, eyes blown wide. The doctor merely nodded. "Oh." Summer breathed out. Clearly the knowledge hadn't sunken in yet. Admittedly, Scott wasn't quite ready to believe it either. Scott looked over at his friends. "This is the point where one of us wakes up isn't it?" he asked.

Doctor K snorted and pushed one of the boxes forward. "You, Mr Truman, are to be designated Ranger Red. You will be team leader."

"I will be?" he asked, at the same time as his father said, "He what?"

She nodded. "Yes. According to your service record, you have a mind for strategy and you're good with people. The twins are amazing fighters but they're too used to being on their own. For that reason alone, they cannot lead this team, though I assure you, there are other reasons."

He hesitated only for a moment, then eased the box towards him. Inside was a red gem, dangling from a silver wire. Not a ruby, he realized immediately, though he wasn't sure what was giving it the red color. When he picked it up, the stone was warm. "A necklace?" Summer asked, though he barely heard her over the roar that filled his ears as power rushed through him. A focus-stone, he realized. A very powerful one. Except focus-stones were usually clear.

Focus-stones were used to amplify metaphysical abilities, not physical ones. But Scott was sure that if he could figure out how to channel this power, it would make him stronger and faster than he could ever hope of being on his own.

A hand rested against his elbow and there was a slight tug on his senses. Summer, he realized, trying to show him how to leash this power. He did so clumsily, sealing it away. It was only then he realized it had been glowing, casting the room in an almost eerily red light. Now the light died down, until the stone almost felt dead in his hands.

The doctor was watching him with approval. "He's a natural." She told his father, which was funny, because neither Humans or Vampires had any metaphysical abilities, so there was no way he had the mental discipline needed to control this power. His father grunted, watching him carefully. "It is, of course, not just a necklace." The doctor continued as he slipped the wire over his head. "After several years of research, we've managed to tie these stones into a power field that encompasses the planet. Its called the Morphing Grid. In time, you will be taught to access this power on command. It had three stages. The dormant stage, for when you are not accessing it. The amplifying stage, which will heighten every ability you have. The third stage is the armor stage. When used, you will be encased in a suit of armor. Use it sparingly, because it takes a great deal of energy to use."

That said, she pushed another box towards Summer. "You, Miss Landsdown, will be Ranger Yellow." Scott watched as Summer gently settled the stone around her neck. Once there, it cast out a golden light that cast strange intimidating shadows across her face. It lasted only a moment before she wheeled it in, a glint of amusement back on her face.

"Mr McAllistair, you will be Ranger Blue." Doctor k said, pushing the last box towards him. Flynn opened it then hesitated, one hand hovering over the stone and looked up at K. "Are ye sure abou' this?" he asked. Scott wanted to yell at him.

The doctor merely met his gaze calmly. "I am not looking for fighters, Mr McAllistair." She told him. "I am looking for protectors. That is who you are, is it not?"

Flynn smiled and took his necklace.

There was a slight shifting out of the corner of his eye. When Scott looked, the twins had moved to stand at Flynn's shoulder. They looked over at him with warm eyes and smiled. Except the smiles looked more like smirks and Gemma had just winked at him. That was when it hit Scott.

He was team leader. He was supposed to order those two around. … Sometimes he hated his life.

"Good." Doctor K said, oblivious to, or perhaps ignoring, their silent exchange. She merely stared at them with a quiet smile. "This will do. Now, a base has been set up for us at this location." She handed each of them a piece of paper with an address squalled across it in tiny handwriting. "Please, move in as soon as possible." She said.

_Translation: immediately, _Scott thought, smiling slightly. "We'll get right on it." He promised.

-0-0-

Summer had brought plants, Scott realized when he finally arrived at his new home. Of course Summer had brought plants. Scott watched as his new teammate debated with herself on where to put the hydrangea she as holding. In a few weeks, when the plants started to grow with a little magical assistance, the whole building would look like a miniature forest. He wondered how long it would be before there were wines growing up the stairs. It would happen, that wasn't a question. Not with a Witch on the team. He wondered what K would have to say about it.

"Tell me you did bring something other than plants." He requested as he looked around. He hadn't brought much, just some clothes, a few pictures, and a bottle of the blood wine. A normal Vampire could live on the blood wine for weeks. He could go months before he required someone to bleed. It all fit into two bags.

Summer glanced over at him and huffed. "Of course I did." She said and turned to look at the other side of the building, holding the plant up thoughtfully. "You can park your car inside, I believe. Its awfully big in here."

"Maybe it's for training." He suggested. Summer shook her head. "Training room's next to the living room, which is off of the kitchen, over there." She said and waved vaguely in one direction.

He arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She had been here longer. "Where are the bedrooms?" he asked.

She motioned to the stairwell off to the side. "I think you just take whatever you want." She told him. "The twins are sharing, I believe. They took the farthest room. I'm in the second one in."

"Is there any difference?" he asked. Summer shook her head. "Didn't think so. Flynn get here yet?" he asked as he started up the stairs.

"No." Summer called as she walked into the kitchen. She came back out just as he moved onto the third room. There really wasn't much of a difference; just a slightly altered view out the window. When he counted, he realized there were two extra room. While he frowned at the hall, Summer leaned on the railing and called up to him. "Want me to put the wine away?"

"Sure." He answered, than paused. "How did you know?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She looked up at him, her expression very clearly telling him not to be an idiot. "You're a Vampire. Of course you have the blood wine."

He smiled slightly and moved on. "Where are the twins?"

"No idea." Summer told him, voice distant as she moved into the kitchen again. "The Doc's in the lab though."

Scott looked down at her from over the railing. "We have a lab?" he asked.

"**She **has a lab. We just live here." Summer corrected. "The whole place is also bugged." Scott followed her pointed finger and found himself staring at a camera. He couldn't tell if it was on or not. "Fun." He muttered.

Finally, he just decided on taking the first room and slung his bag inside. There really wasn't anything to see in the room. The walls were bare and slate gray; the floor was covered in hardwood; there as a bed, a desk, and a dresser; one window that didn't show much and whose only function was to let light in. When he came out, Flynn had arrived. So had the twins.

The twins were carrying Flynn's bags.

Flynn had a bemused expression on his face as the twins quickly took his bags up the stairs and shoved them in the room closest to theirs. "Is tha' my room?" Flynn asked Scott, slight, mystified smile on hi face. He looked rather like a whirlwind had knocked him over, which was a good way of describing the twins.

"It is now." He said, walking down to greet him. He nodded his head towards where the twins were walking back towards them. "What's with them?" he asked.

"They followed me home." Flynn said calmly, shrugging both shoulders and tucking his hands in his pockets.

"They… followed you home?" Scott asked and looked over at where Summer was standing now, frowning slightly with confusion.

Then the twins stepped calmly into place next to Flynn. "That's it?" Gem asked, watching Flynn intently. Flynn nodded. "Tha's it." He agreed happily. Gemma was watching Scott and Summer though, and there was a strange look in her eyes that took Scott a second longer than he preferred to recognize. Challenge.

Then everything seemed to slide into was Pack, Flynn was their Pack. Flynn _resonated_. Well, wasn't that interesting?

He met her gaze and nodded to her, not rising to that challenge. He acknowledged the twins claim on Flynn, even though technically he had met Flynn first, had been friends with him before the twins, so he should have had priority. Gemma blinked once then smiled quietly, everything about her calming and settling. "We're going to get on just fine." Gemma assured him.

"Won't that be fun?" He said with more sarcasm than was probably called for.

Gemma merely grinned. "Welcome to Project Ranger." She said. It was more of a statement than a greeting really, and layered under the words was a silent message. _You just described it in one, boyo._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes**: For background information, common terms, notes, warnings, and disclaimer, please see my livejournal post here: http:/ dream-edge. livejournal. com/ .

7 Steps from Humanity

Part Two: The Pack

Chapter 1

VENJIX was a poison. It's very presence withered the land. In places where it's army used the twisted magics given to it, the land had quickly died. In the places far from any battlefields, the sky was always gray and only weeds grew; those places existed in a near-constant twilight. But near Corinth, near those true battlefields, there was very little that lived. All the plants and trees had died, the soil had dried into dust and blown away, and the sky had been scorched an ugly red. The entire east-coast had withered into a desert within a year of the VENJIX takeover.

Nothing survived in the Wastes for long. Even if you had the proper supplies to get through the desert, VENJIX drones were everywhere and there were machine factories every day's drive apart. People thought the VENJIX Barricade was the difficult part; really, it was the desert that killed you.

Dillon had been in the Wastes for a month and a half by now, ever since he had escaped one of the factories. He'd been captured by VENJIX drones during the takeover, when he and his sister had been fleeing to Albyon. They'd almost made it. Then the city had fallen. Everything had been afire; there had been bodies everywhere. Dillon was a Predator, he'd been born for the battlefield, but thinking back to that day still gave him chills. Alone, he might have escaped. But Amara had been with him; for all her talents, his dear sister as still blind. There had been no way out.

Dillon had been born ready to die for those he loved; it was the gift and curse of the Berserkers. Sometimes, he thought that dying there, taking down as many drones as he could, would have been a kinder fate. The drones hadn't bothered to kill them though. They had merely been knocked out. By the time Dillon had awoken, they were already in the VENJIX factory. He hadn't known then what they were planning, only that every instinct in him was demanding he protect his sister. He had, to the best of his abilities; he'd gotten her out. But not himself. He'd lost any sense of time in there, but he was sure that had been at least a year ago. He had no idea what had happened to her after that. He hoped she had made it to Corinth, but he _didn't know_.

Berserkers were warriors, born for battle. If Dea al Mon were the perfect hunters, Berserkers were the perfect soldiers. They didn't fight, they protected; everything about them was tied into that vicious urge to protect the Pack in a way that was wholly Berserker. No other Pack was bound up in such a way. It was how they'd gotten the name; hurt a Berserker's Pack and they went absolutely insane.

Amara was the only Pack he had and he didn't even know where she was. That knowledge was like a poison in him, one that slowly ate away at him everyday.

He'd spent the time he had once he was free jumping from outpost to outpost, stealing supplies from the machines, slowly making his way to Corinth. He'd stolen a car once, a black Fury that he hadn't let go of. It was one of the only things he still owned; the car and his key and watch that he'd gotten from his grandfather before the man had died. It was good car really, but the radio always went wonky. The twisted magics of the Wastes tended to fuzz the signal. Normally, it was a small compliant. But out here, he needed it. A message played constantly across the airwaves from Corinth, repeating the coordinates for the city. It was too easy to get lost out here, that signal tended to be the only thing that prevented him from going in circles.

He grimaced when the signal disappeared into static again and pulled the car to a stop. He sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wheel. He sat there for a few minutes, listening to the static, before finally shutting off the car and getting out. He had been out here for a month and a half; sometimes, he felt like he was going insane. He leaned back against the door. He needed to get to Corinth but…

But he'd been the machines' lab rat. There were experiments he was still mentally blocking that had placed mechanical parts within his body, welded onto his bones. He was pretty sure they'd put something in his head to. He knew they'd given him magic. He tried never to use it, every time he did it made him sick, made him feel out of control for weeks afterward. Truth was, he wasn't heading straight to Corinth because he wasn't sure the ruin-wards would let him through.

"Excuse me."

He jerked up, staring at the young man who was standing barely ten feet from him. Dillon should have noticed him long before now; a Berserkers situational awareness was what made them so dangerous, they knew exactly where everything was and how to use it as a weapon. Yet somehow, this young man had slipped right under his notice. The man smiled at him unsurely, arms raised from his sides in a show of peace. Dillon frowned at him, trying to get a hold of the man's psychic scent. It was dark, a rich darkness that spoke of the demon kind. And yet…

He couldn't identify race.

The realization rocked him. The scent was obviously demon kind but he couldn't lock down an exact race. The scent went… fuzzy, whenever he tried. Not knowing a person's race, especially one of the demon kind, was inviting trouble. He looked up, right into the man's eyes- pale brown, not the gold or red of the demon kind-. It hit him like a blow.

_Resonate_.

Except, no, not really. Almost. The boy _almost _resonated, in a way that said something fundamental about the man had changed just enough so that he no longer resonated. Or perhaps Dillon was the one that had changed, there was no way to say. It didn't matter. Perhaps in another time it would have, but it had been so long since Dillon had had anything resembling Pack that almost was good enough.

He was a slip of a man, honestly; Dillon was sure he would break him if he held too tightly. He was dirty and his face was burned from too many days out in the Wastes, but he didn't hold the too thin look of someone who had spent the past year running from VENJIX drones. His hair was a curled mess, the same plain brown as his eyes. The only thing that gave any hint to his race was his ears, which were pointed, but that trait was exclusive to the woodland kin and more than likely just a hold-off from from a distant bloodline.

"Who are you?" he asked carefully.

"Ziggy." The man said. "My name is Ziggy." He paused and glanced at the car Dillon was still leaning against. "You headed for Corinth?"

"Where else?"

Ziggy nodded in agreement and looked back at him. "Can I come?" he asked. When Dillon didn't say anything, he stepped forward and hedged. "I'd say we're only about two week's walk from Corinth, so you'd only have to put up with me for about a day or two."

"You know where Corinth is?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah." A dark, self-deprecating smile slid across Ziggy's face. "It's a long story." Ziggy looked up at him again, almost hopeful. "I could tell you along the way?"

Dillon sighed, because the man _almost_ resonated, almost, so there was no way he'd be able to leave him here. "Get in." He ordered. He turned away when a wide, stunning smile slipped across the man's face. He heard Ziggy take two steps forward then freeze abruptly, gasping. Dillon closed his eyes, not willing to turn around. He already knew what had caused the abrupt stop. _Finally noticed it, eh boyo? _He thought.

VENJIX was a poison, in the land and in the body and now it was splashed across his psychic scent for all to see. There was no hiding what he now was.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said blankly. Not that that had ever prevented any others from freaking.

There was a cold silence from behind him, not that he was expecting anything else. Well, perhaps he was expecting the man to run away. Then came the slow shift of feet over sand. Towards him.

"Alright." Ziggy said carefully, moving towards the passenger side. Dillon watched him in surprise; Ziggy paused with his hand on the door and looked up at him. Ziggy smiled slightly, brown eyes warm, and ducked into the car. A slow smile slipped across Dillon's face in answer. "Which way?" he asked as he got in as well and looked across at his passenger. Ziggy waved a hand to the left while he buckled up.

Ziggy was an odd companion. He sat in the seat next to him quietly, one hand out the open window as he tried to catch the air. He had hardly said a word since getting in but he didn't seem uncomfortable with Dillon. His psychic scent was washing through the car, seeping quickly into the leather. Dillon had never found the demon kind psychic scents particularly attractive, but something about the rich darkness of Ziggy's was oddly… appealing.

Dillon drummed his fingers against the wheel, watching from the corner of his eyes as Ziggy's fingers slipped through the wind. "So. I believe you owe me a story." He said.

Ziggy's hand paused in the air, then thumped against the side of the car as he dropped it. "I'm from Corinth." He said.

Dillon frowned. "What, you walked out of Corinth?"

"I was running actually." Ziggy said in a voice that was too empty. Dillon glanced over at him to find he was staring at the side mirror, watching the ground pass beneath the wheels of the car. "There was an… incident." Ziggy finally said after a long pause. "Something happened and I freaked. And, idiot that I am," There was that bitter, self-deprecating smile again. "I ran." He pulled his arm in and looked over at Dillon. "It really was stupid. There are places I could have gone, places I would have been safe. I was, uh, about two days out of Corinth when I calmed down enough to realize what I'd done. Needless to say, I freaked again."

"No doubt." Dillon said. Ziggy huffed next to him, sounding almost amused. Dillon glanced over at the man. "Is your name really Ziggy?" he asked.

"Sigmund, actually." Ziggy said. "Sigmund Elijah Grover. I've never liked it. When I was young, I went by Elie. But my mother didn't like that, so I changed it to Ziggy. She didn't quite like that either." Ziggy laughed briefly and looked over at him. "I just realized, I don't know your name."

Dillon looked back at him. "You make a habit of getting into cars with strangers?" he asked.

"Maybe."

He laughed. When had he last laughed? Since before the war, at least, probably later. "Dillon. My name's Dillon Kane."

"Dillon." Ziggy said slowly, like he was getting the feel of the name. Dillon shivered, because there was something very sexual about the way Ziggy rolled his name around on his tongue. He glanced over at the younger man. He hadn't noticed before, had been too wrapped up in identifying the man's race and enjoying that he had someone who was almost Pack with him after so long, but now that he was paying attention he realized just how sensual Ziggy was. It was written in the lines of his body, in how he leaned against the door, limbs in an sprawl that looked elegant without trying; it was in the slight tilt of his head that caused his hair to cast shadows across his face in mysterious, appealing patterns; it was in how he moved, because for however awkward he seemed standing still, he moved with a grace that drew the eye. Dillon was annoyed, not for the first time, that Berserkers were monogamous.

"So, Dillon," Ziggy said. "What's a Berserker doing all the way out here without a Pack?"

"Trying to find one." He said. He gulped thickly and admitted. "I have a sister. It was just us before VENJIX attacked, so she's all I have. We got separated during the war. I hope she made it to Corinth but I have no idea."

There was a long pause. "That _sucks._" Ziggy said emphatically.

Dillon smiled. "Yeah." He agreed. He hesitated then sighed because he couldn't not ask and he was honestly surprised he hadn't before. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound rude. But what are you?"

Ziggy actually smiled. "We've been driving for three hours and you're just now asking?" he asked, sounding amused. "Admittedly, I think of everyone I've met, you've lasted the longest in not asking."

"You're not going to give me a straight answer, are you?" he asked.

"Nope." Ziggy answered, popping the 'p' in a way that was positively obscene.

"You're annoying." He said, though he didn't really mean it.

"I get that a lot."

The sun had long since set by the time they drove to a cliff that overlooked the City walls. They glowed in the half-moon light, the runes withering across the walls like blue snakes. It was a beautiful, rugged city, standing like sanctuary in the middle of the Wastes. Dillon had heard rumors from those he'd met, briefly, in the Wastes. They had spoken of Corinth like it was some holy place, sacred and protected. Dillon hadn't thought very much of them at the time- they had tried to steal his car with no plans of taking him along-, had thought they were clinging to some stupid idea of a place to prevent themselves from going insane. But here, seeing the city standing strong in the middle of land that had been so obviously torn apart by war, it was easy to believe that the city really was something hallowed.

"When you're inside," Ziggy said next to him, quiet and almost sad. "You forget how lucky you are. Those walls, they start to feel like a birdcage. You forget they're meant to keep the wolves out." Ziggy gulped thickly then said. "We made it just in time. No one's ever made it through the Barricade in broad daylight."

"Anyone ever make it on the new moon?" he asked, looking over at him.

Ziggy smiled. "Not really, but no one talks about that."

"That entire field is probably rigged with motion sensors and heat detectors." Dillon pointed out. "VENJIX will know we're here before we're half-way across."

"The city will send out helpers." Ziggy assured. "We just have to keep moving until we make it through the ruin-wards." Ziggy paused before saying what neither of them wanted them to. "If we get through the ruin-wards."

Dillon stared at the city for a long moment. "Her name's Amara." He said. "My sister, her name is Amara. She's a Siren and she's been blind since she was seven. She'll be nineteen by now." He looked over at Ziggy, who was watching him with a frown. "You're getting through those wards, I promise you that. But if I don't make it through, promise me you will look for her."

Ziggy watched him, eyes wide. Thanks to the robotics, Dillon could clearly make out the lines of his face, the way Ziggy's mouth opened and closed unsurely. "If you don't make it through, what are you going to do?"

"Keep looking for her. If she's not out here, then she's got to be in there, and I'll know she's safe."

"You'll be alone." Ziggy said, sounding shocked. "You're Pack race. You're not meant to be alone."

"Ziggy, let's be serious." He said calmly. "Even if I get through the wards, they're not going to want me in that city." He turned back to the wheel and put the car back into drive. Ziggy continued watching him as they sped down. Finally he said, a soft whisper in the wind. "I promise."

He smiled slightly and nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

They sped across the desert towards the city, Dillon more glad than ever that the car he'd stolen was black so they better blended into the night. For the first time, he was also glad for the robotics that had enhanced his sight enough that he didn't need the headlights to navigate the field around Corinth.

"Dillon." Ziggy said, voice tight. Dillon glanced over at him and caught sight of the headlights racing towards them. VENJIX drones. An odd calm settled over him as his mind sped up, senses spreading to take in the whole of the battlefield. This, here, with Pack next to him, this was what Berserkers were born for. "I see them." He assured calmly.

"Can we outrun them?"

"Them, yeah." He said, then looked over at the lights approaching them from the front, intent on cutting them off. "Them, not so much."

"Do you have a gun?" Ziggy asked. Dillon glanced over at him again, this time in surprise. "Can you hit them?"

"Watch me."

Dillon sighed but reached blindly behind him, feeling around the backseat until he found the gun he rarely had to use. Ziggy grabbed it the minute he brought his hand back, unlatching his seatbelt and pulling himself out the open window. Dillon's eyes widened and his calm broke as he lunged after the young man. "Get back in here, Ziggy!" he shouted.

Ziggy ignored him, settling on the door frame, one arm still inside the car and grasping at the roof for balance. Both of his legs were clamped against the door. If the car was rocked even slightly, Dillon could see no way for Ziggy to remain still. A single hit, and the younger man would go flying. Forget being hit, the recoil of the gun would knock him out of the car. "Ziggy!" he hissed again, this time with desperation as every instinct he had started screaming about the danger his Pack was in.

The young man merely raised his free arm and took aim with the gun. The gun flashed as it fired, lighting up the area in a pale silver that bleached the color from Ziggy's face and left his eyes seeming like passing shadows on his face. Then, the dark fell again, one of the headlights in front of them suddenly veered and crashed into the one next to it. Ziggy barely moved throughout it all.

Dillon watched the drones crash together in no small amazement and decided Ziggy wasn't quite the waif he seemed. He'd still prefer it if Ziggy was _inside_ the car. One of Ziggy's legs moved from it's position against the door and blindly nudged at his arm. "Will you calm down?" Ziggy yelled at him over the wind, already taking aim for another shot. _Calm down_? The other man wasn't serious, was he? How was he expecting Dillon to calm down when he was barely in the car and machines were _shooting_ at them?

Before Ziggy could take his next shot, a blast from one of the drones hit the ground near his tire. Ziggy flew forward and slammed into the roof with an _oof_; Dillon immediately latched onto the leg that had nudged him, holding it tightly to prevent Ziggy from being unseated. The young man didn't even bother to regain his position before pivoting around to fire back at the drones behind them.

"Get back in the car!" He shouted, tugging at the leg in his grip. Ziggy remained where he was. "Ziggy, seriously!" he called. "_Please_!"

There was a brief pause then Ziggy slid back into the car with an enviable ease. The young man glared at him. "I was handling that." He said. Dillon glared at him from the corner of his eye. "Well, I wasn't." He snarled before focusing his eyes back on the city that was slowly rising before them.

"What is with you?" Ziggy demanded.

"It's been a while since I've had anyone to protect. Shut up and sit there. You have a promise to keep." He ordered.

Ziggy watched him then said, softly, like he was finally beginning to realize how frazzled Dillon was, "_We_ have promises to keep."

Amara loved poetry, loved anything that rhymed, so he only had one answer. "And miles to go before we sleep."

There as a brief, startled pause, then Ziggy threw his back and laughed, a rich deep sound that vibrated around the car. "Oh, I hope not. We'll never be able to outrun them for _miles_. And it's not even winter." And that, right there, was why it was so obvious they resonated. He didn't have to explain that kind of leap in conversation. He never would have to.

If they made it out of this alive.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the Barricade he had heard so much about rose from the shadows like a giant, nothing more than a mass of shadows against the star-lit sky. The magic he'd been given rose in him in response, uncalled for and unwanted. He couldn't stop it though, had never been able to stop it. It flooded through him like the cold rage, only so much worse. It roared in his ears, blocked out everything else but this rising power. Something in him panicked, because he couldn't figure out if Ziggy was still there. His Pack was gone. He tried to reach out towards where Ziggy had been but his hand wouldn't move.

He was reaching that point where the only thing he'd be able to do was let the power go. Only this time, he knew the power wouldn't be lashing out against his enemies; it would be at Ziggy, who, unfathomably, trusted him and was still there, had to still be there because he couldn't lose his Pack again.

A hand clamped down on his wrist, a voice breaking through the pounding in his ears. Ziggy, he realized with a rush of relief. Ziggy was still here. "Damn you, I said _leash it_!" Ziggy shouted at him.

Ziggy's will. Ziggy, who was Pack, who was equal because he resonated, never mind the _almost_. Ziggy who, whole unknowing, was the leash he needed to hold down this terrible thing in him. So many people forgot why almost all the Predator races were also Pack races. It was because it was easier for a Predator deep in the cold rage to yield to someone who was Pack; because it was easier to give the Pack the leash to their vicious temper. He shuddered back into the real world, gasping as the detail filtered back in.

Ziggy as watching him with wide eyes that were slowly losing the edge in favor of worry. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. Dillon would love to answer that but the Barricade towered above them and it occurred to Dillon that they had no way past it. "I don't suppose you have a bomb." He said to Ziggy.

"Why would I have a bomb?" Ziggy snapped.

"Yeah, didn't think so." He said. "Any plans?"

Before Ziggy could respond, part of the Barricade blasted off from the other side. There were people standing in the hole left and waving at them, wearing brightly colored suits that Dillon just knew was going to get them killed. They practically screamed '_Here I am, shoot me now_'. That didn't stop Dillon from gearing towards them.

"See?" Ziggy said as they passed the group through the Barricade. "I told you the city would help."

"Don't celebrate yet." Dillon said, aiming for the open gate in the city wall, and the veil of shimmering ruins that covered it. Ziggy went tense all over, eyes steely. "We'll make it." He said tightly. Dillon was honestly surprised to realize the man believed that.

Then they hit the ruin-wards. It felt like moving through a kind of goo as the wards wavered between letting them through or not. Ziggy's hand was still clenched around his wrist, keeping him grounded and preventing the magic in him from rising in answer. Dillon knew, deep down, that if his magic rose, they would never get through. Dillon glanced over at Ziggy. The younger man was hunched in his seat, eyes clenched as the magic considered them. _I made a promise. _He thought at the ruin-wards as hard as he could. _That I would get him to Corinth, so you are going to let us through._

There was a pause, then the power lifted from them, letting them glide safely behind the walls. Ziggy let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the seat, grip finally loosening around his wrist. "We made it." He said.

Dillon stared out the windshield at the guards that hovered around carefully, waiting for the gate to close. They all had guns. "Yeah." He agreed, though he didn't share Ziggy's enthusiasm. Ziggy raised his head at his tone and spotted the guards as well. He hesitated then reached for the door handle. "We can't hide in here for forever."

"Ziggy." He said before Ziggy could open the door. "Leave the gun." He said, nodding his head towards the gun Ziggy was still lightly gripping in one hand. Ziggy blinked at it like he'd forgotten he was holding it. "Oh." He said, before flickering on the safety and letting it drop to the floorboard. Then he got out.

Dillon watched him face the guards with his hands raised from his sides, the same way he'd first faced Dillon. Finally he sighed and stepped out himself. It took a few moments, enough for him to move around the car to reach Ziggy, then the guns rose, all pointed at him. The only reason the men didn't immediately fire was because the people with the colorful uniforms arrived, gate sealing behind them. There was a brief pause, then the one in red stepped forward. There was a brief gathering of power, then the red seemed to gather together and fade away. A normal man was left standing there with his arms crossed, wearing mismatched clothes that made Dillon realize they'd probably woken everyone here.

"What's going on?" the man asked, eyes red enough to match the outfit gazing at them. Vampire, Dillon realized, and was almost relieved that his inability to identify race was something purely Ziggy and not because he'd forgotten how to do it.

"He feels like VENJIX, sir." One of the guards said, gun still trained on him. Dillon didn't react.

The red eyes flickered towards him briefly then widened in surprise. "That he does." The man agreed, sounding shocked.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone." He told him since he was sure this man was in charge.

"We should just kill them." Another of the guards said, eyes wide and spooked.

Them. Not _him_. Them; the man was including Ziggy. He plunged into the cold and stepped forward without thinking, growling deep in his throat.

"Dillon!" Ziggy shouted, voice a whip-crack, a leash. Dillon froze in place, muscles curled as he struggled to obey that will, despite the desperate need to tear apart the threat to his Pack. He compromised by stepping back, shoving Ziggy against the car, and stepping firmly in front of him. Ziggy sighed heavily, but didn't move, which was more of a concession than his sister would have made.

"Sir?" the guard who'd threatened Ziggy asked, voice a squeak. The man didn't answer, watching Dillon with consideration. Next to the Vampire, there was a flash from the one in gold, then there was an Asian, male Dea al Mon standing there, watching them with coolly amused eyes. "You threatened a Berserker's Pack." The Dea al Mon told the guard blandly. "Were you expecting a different reaction?"

The one in yellow looked at the Vampire. "Scott?" a female voice asked, muffled by the helmet she wore.

Scott continued to watch the new arrivals, then sighed and scrubbed one hand through his hair. "We'll have to put you in Solitude at the jail until we can determine exactly what you are." Scott informed him, looking almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I have a duty to protect these people."

Dillon nodded. "I understand." He said.

The Vampire hesitated then said. "I have to take him in as well."

"He has done nothing wrong!" he said hotly, not moving from his place in front of Ziggy. Ziggy's hand pressed into the small of his back, gaining his attention. "I'm with you." Ziggy whispered into his shoulder. "That's what I've done wrong."

He turned to look at Ziggy slowly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Because of course Ziggy would be in trouble for being with him. It was obvious to everyone that he'd been tainted by VENJIX. There was no way Ziggy hadn't known and they all knew that.

"You won't be separated, I promise you that." Scott continued. "But you both have to come with us."

"I'm sorry." He told Ziggy, ignoring Scott. Ziggy shrugged and looked at the Vampire. "Lead on." He said, head raised high and moved towards them with an elegant grace that was amazing to watch. Dillon had no choice but to follow him


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes**: For background information, common terms, notes, warnings, and disclaimer, please see my livejournal post here: http:/ dream-edge. livejournal. com/ .

7 Steps from Humanity

Part Two: The Pack

Chapter 2

Scott hated mornings.

If he had a choice, he tried not to be up before 9. Of course, as a Power Rangers, he rarely had a choice in the matter. His life this past year had been defined by all-day training and all-night battles. Dr K had thought that by now he should have adjusted to being awoken at all sorts of unholy hours of the night. Scott was resolutely ignoring what K thought because that woman wasn't normal by even the twins' standards.

He really didn't want to get up today. He had gotten a total of four hours of sleep last night due to the two men who'd run the Barricade. Scott had barely managed to fall back asleep an hour ago and already K was calling the team to give her report on the her analysis of the two men. He had really been hoping it would take her longer. He groaned and forced himself to get out of bed. By which he meant roll right over the edge to land in a crumbled heap on the floor. He looked around his bedroom with eyes that did not want to be open and decided that changing out of his sleep clothes before the first cup of coffee was too much work.

He stepped out of his room, stopping when the richly bitter smell of coffee washed over him. The others were up. Grinning slightly and feeling more awake, he walked to the kitchen. When he entered though, he had to stop and close his eyes. Obviously, Summer hated him. She had chosen to remain in her pajamas as well, which wouldn't be a problem if not for the small shorts that showed just how sinfully long her legs were, all tan, smooth skin and lean muscles for fucking miles. Damn her, she knew what that outfit did to him. _Too early_, he told his body sternly when his cock twitched in interest. Not that his body had ever listened to him.

"Alright there Scott?" Summer asked, wicked amusement in her voice.

He opened his eyes to glare at her and promptly forgot what she was wearing when he saw what she was holding. "Is that coffee?"

Summer's lips pulled back in a smile that was all teeth. "Mine." She said in the gentle tone that sent sane men running. "Get your own."

He glared at her half-heartedly but obediently shuffled over to the coffee maker. When he turned around, Gem had appeared, leaning against the wall with dull, dazed eyes. The plain shirt he was wearing was one size too big, hung loose across the shoulders, meaning he'd stolen it from Flynn. Not that that was unusual, both twins had taken to borrowing from Flynn's wardrobe; admittedly, even Flynn thought Gemma looked ridiculous in his clothes.

"Wha's go_in_' on?" Gem asked, voice breaking in a yawn.

"Gotta deal with those two guys." He informed, moving to lean against the counter as Gemma and Flynn entered. Flynn stopped next to Gem, leaning close as he fingered the collar of the shirt Gem was wearing. Flynn whispered something to Gem Scott couldn't hear; whatever it was, it brought a smile to Gem's face. Scott ignored them until Flynn sat down next to Summer and gave him a look. "Tha' boy we picked up is makin' the twins anxious." He informed calmly, like unsettling the twins was an everyday thing.

There was a brief moment of silence as he and Summer processed that before Summer shifted and shrugged. "Can't blame them." She said.

Scott grimaced. "I'll admit, I really don't want to know what was capable of doing that to his psychic scent."

Gemma was still with her brother near the door, talking to him in hushed tones. She stopped, however, to give him a look that said she thought he was being particularly idiotic today. "Wrong boy." She said. Scott frowned and thought back to the other man, half-hidden behind the one who felt like VENJIX. He hadn't thought much of him at the time; the man had been small and nonthreatening, especially when placed next to his friend. However, thinking back on it, there had been an oddness to him, covered at the time by the elder man. "He was fuzzy." Scott said quietly in realization.

Gemma looked distinctly unimpressed with him, which was always uncomfortable. "Make her stop staring at me like that." He hissed at Flynn.

Flynn smiled and spread both arms wide. "Aye can' make her do anythin'." He said with the serene calm that meant he was staying out of this. He was lying, of course, completely and utterly; the twins would do anything if they thought it would make Flynn happy. It was the kind of reckless devotion that made him glad he wasn't a Pack race.

"Rangers!" K called, obviously thinking they'd had enough time to wake up. Scott groaned but pushed off the counter and shuffled into the lab, his team trailing behind.

The good doctor frowned at them when she saw they were still in their pajamas but by now she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she picked up a file from her desk and brought an image up on the wide screen on the wall. "This is a scan of our mystery man." K informed them. "Look closely and you can see the metal that's been grafted onto his bones. The procedure to do this must have been extensive."

"Is this affecting his thinking in any way?" Scott asked, intrigued despite himself.

K shook her head. "As far as I can tell, no."

"What about the man himself?" Summer asked from next to him, hands still wrapped around her coffee cup.

"He refuses to talk."

"Of course he does." Scott said dryly then sighed heavily. "What about the other guy that was with him?"

"Sigmund Elijah Grover." She said immediately.

"He talked?" Flynn asked, looking briefly surprised.

K was already shaking her head. "No." She paused then and added, "Well, yes. Though from the contents I do believe he hasn't said anything that's actually the truth; I do have a transcript of the conversation if you want to look anyway. I checked his city registration file."

There was a _long _pause. Scott looked over at Summer and was slightly heartened to see she was sharing in his look of blank incomprehension. Finally he turned back to the doctor. "He's from Corinth?" he asked. She nodded. "He's a _citizen_ of Corinth?" She nodded again. "How did he end up with this guy?"

"Security cameras caught him slipping out of Corinth two weeks ago."

"Out?" Flynn said, sounding shocked. "_Out?"_

"Yes."

"_Why?"_

"I don't know." K said. "Grover has a remarkable ability to stay off the grid. He came into with the first wave of refugees, filled out the registration form, then disappeared. All activity from then until now is a mystery." She frowned heavily. "In fact, he didn't even finish his registration form. There are some very noticeable blanks. I have no idea how he got passed the guards with that."

"Let me guess." Gem said, actually looking a little annoyed.

Gemma finished for him. "His race is missing."

K nodded, though she looked a little confused. That's when Scott remembered she hadn't actually felt Grover's psychic scent. "I have no idea why, though." She said, lips drawn down in a frown. "It's not like he can hide it."

"Except for the part where he apparently can. He's fuzzy." Scott explained with an aggravated sigh. "Can someone tell me what the kid is?" He could feel a headache coming on. It was way too early for this shit. Summer's hand slipped across his neck, gently kneading the muscles there. He leaned into the touch slightly with a smile.

K was frowning at him. "Fuzzy?" she repeated. When he nodded, she made a 'hm', one finger pressing against her lips. "I will have to look into that." She said at last. "I may have an idea." She raised her eyes back to Scott. "In the mean time, what should we do about them now?"

Scott stared at the scan on the screen for a long moment, an odd thought nagging on the corner of his mind. Something K had said once, long ago. "I'd like to talk to them." He said finally.

* * *

><p>It took him a lot longer than he wanted to get out of the Garage. The twins were fussing now. Fussing. Over him. Not Flynn. Flynn had apparently understated things that morning. The twins weren't unsettled by the two men. They were flipping the fuck out, in their own quiet way. The last time he could remember the twins fussing over him, he'd broken three ribs. That had not been a fun month; especially since Flynn had spent it silently laughing at him as Scott struggled to deal with the twins. Flynn had worried over him for the first week right along with them; then he'd sat back and resolutely not helped him out.<p>

He sighed heavily in remembrance, tugging uncomfortably at his morpher as he followed a security guard down the prison hallways. As it was, he hadn't gotten here till mid-day. He stopped abruptly when he saw his father sitting in one of the interrogation cells, talking to the Berserker with Marcus. Grover was noticeably absent. He had expected to meet up with the Colonel on this visit his late in the day. He hadn't expected his father to be stupid enough to separate the two. No wonder the man hadn't spoken.

The man looked pissed, in an eerily silent kind of way. Scott had gotten the impression that the Berserker wasn't exactly quiet when he was angry. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring at the Colonel, ignoring all of the Colonel's demands and Marcus's polite inquires. From the sound of things, Marcus was still trying to get his name.

Scott hesitated then reached out for the man's psychic scent. Warm. He nearly collapsed with relief. The man was angry, but not in a rage yet. He took a deep, steading breath and walked over to rap his hand against one of the metal bars. The Berserker's eyes immediately shot towards him. The man stared for a second before recognition flickered through his eyes, his psychic scent warming just a little bit more. That was… interesting. "Can I talk to you?" he asked his father. When Mason opened his mouth to say something, Scott cut right over him. "Now."

Marcus' expression lightened significantly upon seeing him. Not waiting for his father's signal, Marcus stood and approached, leaving Mason to follow or sit there like an idiot beneath their prisoner's now amused stare. Scott didn't care if it pissed his father off, anything that pushed that man away from the Rage was a good thing in his mind.

"What are you doing?" He hissed the minute his brother and father were next to him.

His father glared at him. "I'm trying to get information about the current threat to this city."

"Yeah. How's that going?" he asked. "Where is Grover?"

"He's talking to Hicks." Marcus said immediately. "I thought it best to keep them together but Father disagreed."

Scott sighed heavily and carefully rubbed his temples, wishing he'd asked Summer to accompany him. She knew how to be reasonable long past the point where he got annoyed. At least Grover was with Hicks. Hicks was the least threatening person he knew, not to mention completely harmless. "Please, go get them."

Marcus looked relieved and turned to leave before Mason could react. So the Colonel immediately snapped at him. "What are you doing? You can't just come in here and overrule my decisions."

Scott closed his eyes with a pained look and counted to ten. Tried to remind himself that his father was a Pack race, wasn't part of anyone's Pack, barely knew those who were. Those who hadn't seen the Pack instinct in full force always underestimated it. It was not actually his father's fault that he didn't know just how much the Pack drove someone like a Berserker.

He really should have taken that family counseling K had suggested.

"Rangers deal with Venjix. He," Scott finally said, pointing to the Berserker who was watching them closely, "feels like Venjix. Thus, my jurisdiction. I can do whatever I want." Scott forced himself to stop and took a breathe before saying, "And you are not going to get anything out of him by taking his Pack."

There was a sudden mumble of voices from down the hall, a mix of his brother's voice and a high, light voice he'd never heard before. But the Berserker's head immediately snapped around and he stood abruptly, making the guards raise their guns. Marcus and Grover turned the corner, coming into sight and all the tension in the Berserker just drained away. Grover's eyes moved from Marcus to see the Berserker and he immediately brightened, racing ahead of Marcus to sprint into the cell with the Berserker.

"I can handle this." Scott told his father. "Please, you must have other things to do."

The Colonel watched him with narrowed eyes then sighed. "Do be careful. I don't trust them."

Scott nodded and stepped to the side so his father and Marcus could walk by. Then he approached the two, leaning against the doorway. The Berserker glanced at him and nodded in acknowledgment. "Oh good." He said. "The reasonable one is here."

Scott blinked in surprise and bit his lip to keep from laughing. Because seriously? The man was calling him the reasonable one? Summer was going to love this. "I apologize for that." He said instead. "Sometimes the Colonel doesn't fully understand how hard instincts drive a Predator."

Grover made a strangled sound in his throat, looking horribly amused as he slumped in the seat Marcus had previously occupied. "How can we help you, oh reasonable one?" he asked, brown eyes dancing. Scott noticed the Berserker kick the younger man under the table, making Grover frown at him and rest his feet on top of the table.

"A name would be nice." Scott said, ignoring the horseplay and looking at the Berserker. "Calling you 'that guy' is starting to get annoying."

"It's Kane. Dillon Kane."

Scott smiled widely and nodded. "Thank you Mr Kane. It's highly appreciated."

"What about me?" Grover asked. Scott glanced at the young man and had to blink in surprise. Grover was leaning his head back against the chair, showing off the pale arch of his neck, and how was he making that sprawl seem so very attractive? Scott shook his head slightly to clear it and straightened from his slouch against the door frame, tucking his hands into his pockets. Then he stuck his tongue firmly in cheek and said, "Well, according to the information you've already given us, your name is Louis Humeral."

To Dillon's credit, he didn't even blink at the false name. Grover just grinned widely and nodded in agreement. "That it is."

He met the young man's brown eyes and asked, "So, I should arrest you for falsifying your city registration form, Mr Grover?"

Grover barely hesitated before snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. "I'd forgotten about that." He said, pouting in an exaggerated fashion that made his lips look really appealing.

"Of course." Scott said generously. "If there's anything you need…" he trailed off when the two glanced at each other. That was the kind of look that spoke entire conversations. Scott had the sinking feeling that he was dealing with a resonation. Which doubled the complications of protocol when dealing with Pack. He held in his sigh and struggled not to think about the paperwork this would involve.

"Amara Kane. She's a Siren." Kane said after a minute. "Can you find her for me?"

Scott shrugged. "If she's in the city registration files she shouldn't be too hard to find. If there's nothing else, perhaps we should get you two back to your cell."

The two glanced at each other for a brief moment before Grover hopped to his feet, all smiles. "There's food?" he asked hopefully, brown eyes shining brightly, as Kane rose behind him.

There was no denying that face. "Half an hour, I believe, and the mess opens for lunch."

Grover's smile widened, which should have been impossible by that point, and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, perfect. It's almost home!" Kane snorted in amusement and placed a gentle hand against Grover's back, pushing the smaller man forward slightly. "Walk." Kane ordered, but his voice was warm.

"I'll be back as soon as I can with your answer, Kane." Scott said, then nodded at a security guard and motioned him to escort them back to their cell. Scott watched them go. Thought back to how all the tension in Kane had disappeared as soon as Grover was in sight. Smiled to himself and left humming.

* * *

><p>Dillon casually flicked a finger against the one of the bars of his cell, listened thoughtfully to the sound it made, then nodded in satisfaction. Yeah, he could break this without much problem if he needed to. He allowed himself to relax a fraction and glanced at the guards standing nearby. There were three, two right next to the cell- one of which was watching him suspiciously-, the other further down the hall. The only one he had any need to be concerned about was the Lady of the Wood down the hall. They were making breaking out of here almost too easy.<p>

But he didn't, because for some unfathomable reason, he trusted the Vampire who had said he would look for Amara. Instead he twisted in his crouch to look at the man resting half-off the cot, watching him upside down, brown curls just brushing the ground. "The blood's going to go to your head."

"Too late." Ziggy said in a drawl, not moving.

"You are so strange." He said, shifting so he was leaning back against the bars.

"I get that a lot too." Ziggy chirped. Chirped. Just how long had the boy been laying like that?

"Who was that guy?" he asked.

Ziggy's head tilted to the side, which just looked impossibly awkward upside down, and asked, "Who? Mr Reasonable?" He sounded amused at the nickname. Dillon scowled at the tone but nodded. Ziggy moved suddenly and the next thing Dillon knew, the younger man had swung himself into a sitting position, legs folded under him, all in the space between one blink and the next. "That's Truman." Ziggy said, seemingly not fazed by the fact that his blood had to be abruptly switching direction to follow gravity. "He's the Red Ranger."

"Ranger?" Dillon asked in surprise. "As in Power Ranger?" When Ziggy nodded, he made an impressed sound. "Damn, I haven't seen a Ranger since I was a kid. Why are they here?"

"Well, the wards are good, but powering them is a problem." Ziggy admitted. "They didn't really have the time to create a power pool, so the wards are fed by witches."

Dillon was already nodding in understanding. "And sometimes those witches burn out."

Ziggy nodded eagerly, smiling brightly at him, the kind of smile that pulled an answering one out of him. From down the hall, the sound of voices approached, loud and chaotic. Dillon didn't pay it much attention asides from sending out a brief psychic prob; a gang of demon kind, judging by the number and how loud they were, probably more prisoners. Dillon pulled away from them, intent on ignoring them in favor of the smiling mystery inside his cell.

Except Ziggy wasn't smiling anymore.

No, Ziggy had gone pale at the sound of those voices. His eyes were overly wide and he shook slightly. His scent stank of fear. Dillon was on his feet before he'd even fully realized Ziggy was completely terrified. He grabbed the younger man's arm, pulled him roughly off the bed, and shoved him into the corner created by the bed and wall. He stepped in front of the younger man just as the group of prisoners came into view. They barely paid attention to him, continuing on without looking; except for the one at the end, who turned to peer into the cell. Dillon glared back at him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking as imposing as possible, which for him was quite a bit. The other prisoner frowned at him but continued on when a guard probed at him.

Dillon remained where he was for another minute, listening to their footsteps fade, before he turned around. Ziggy had pressed himself against the wall and wrapped his arms around himself, watching Dillon with frightened eyes. "Are you alright?" Dillon asked gently, unsure if the other man really saw him.

Ziggy took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah." He assured. He didn't stop shaking until a guard opened the cell and told them it was lunch time.

Dillon followed the younger man in concern as they headed to the mess. Ziggy didn't say anything though, all but ignoring him except that he shied closer to Dillon every time they passed an occupied. They were walking fast though, so they were gone by the time the occupants could realize who they were. Dillon turned to watched the last guard drop back as they entered the mess hall in confusion and suspicion. Why were they dropping back?

The Berserker became aware, all at once, that Ziggy had gone silent and completely still behind him and that they were all but surrounded. He immediately spun back around, grabbing Ziggy's shoulder and pushing Ziggy behind him, just as the other prisoners stood up and approached them. Ziggy pressed close, hands clenching tight in the material of Dillon's prison jumpsuit. His head was buried against Dillon's shoulder and his breath came in short, jerky pulses against the bare curve of his neck. The sensation would be erotic if Ziggy wasn't so completely terrified.

He glared darkly at the prisoner that approached. _Selkie_, he realized. He hated Shape-shifters. "Is that you, Ziggy?" the man called, trying to glance around Dillon to see the other man. Ziggy's breath hitched at the sound of the man's voice. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come here." The man continued. Dillon did _not_ like the smile on the man's face. It promised pain.

Dillon tightened his grip on Ziggy's arm and placed his other hand on Ziggy's waist, keeping Ziggy firmly behind him. He snarled when the man took another step forward. "Don't touch him." He hissed, dangerously close to going cold.

The Selkie paused in his approach, eyes snapping towards Dillon like he hadn't really seen the Berserker before now. The man's eyes continued to widen as he realized just _what_ was standing before him. Then, for some reason, the man's gaze dropped to the hand Dillon had braced against Ziggy's hip. A dark smirk crossed the man's face. "Is he that good?" the Selkie asked, sounding amused.

Dillon frowned tightly, beyond confused by the statement. Before he could inquire, Ziggy's skin went cold to the touch and something almost like the cold rage but so much worse rose behind him. For one heartbeat, one eternal second, Ziggy's psychic scent solidified. Dillon's head snapped around to stare at Ziggy and it was only the protective instinct that kept him from stepping away in shock.

Then, it was over. Ziggy's temper was abruptly reigned in and his scent went fuzzy before Dillon could double check his original, impossible, impression of Ziggy's race. Ziggy stared right back at him, eyes a much darker brown than he remembered. Dillon couldn't be sure, it could be a trick of light, but he could have sworn that as he watched, Ziggy's eyes lightened to their previous pale brown. It all happened in a few seconds.

Ziggy's eyes dropped and his hand tightened in Dillon's jumpsuit. "I'm not hungry anymore." He whispered. "Let's just go back."

Dillon nodded and started to back up, pushing Ziggy with him. But the Selkie smiled falsely at them and the group of prisoners tightened around them. "I didn't say you could leave." The Selkie said. It took Dillon a moment to realize the others had completely missed Ziggy's abrupt change in temper; honestly, the only reason Dillon had probably noticed was because of how close they were standing.

"You can't stop us." Dillon said. There was no signal Dillon could detect but suddenly the man on his right darted forward, reaching out for Ziggy. The man was quick, Dillon would give him that. But Dillon had mechanical implants. He let the man almost reach Ziggy, let the man think he'd won, then he grabbed the man's wrist and easily broke most of the carpal bones. It happened so fast it took a minute for the man to realize what had happened. The man just stared at his misshapen wrist in Dillon's hold blankly; then the pain crashed over him all at once and a scream erupted from the man. Dillon smirked at the sound and tugged the man closer in order to bring his foot down on the man's knee. There was a brief resistance before the bones gave completely under the force, the leg bending in the wrong direction as the knee shattered. Dillon shoved the man away and took a perverse joy in watching him crumble in pain.

He looked back at the Selkie. "You can't touch Ziggy." He said and smirked. "You can't even touch me."

"He owes us blood!" the Selkie hissed, pleasant expression shattering in rage.

"I don't care." Dillon said just as the guards poured into the room in response to the screams. Dillon kept his grip on Ziggy even as the guards moved throughout the room, forcing people to return to their food. There was no way he was trusting these fools now; not that he really had to begin with.

Ziggy tugged on his jumpsuit again. "Let's go." He said against Dillon's back. Dillon glanced around once again and nodded, ducking out with the younger man as guards started to tend to the downed prisoner.

* * *

><p>Dillon watched from his position on one of the cots as Ziggy walk slowly across the cell, trailing his fingers across the cell bars. Since returning from the mess, they hadn't left the cell, hadn't talked much either. Honestly, Dillon had thought Ziggy would be going insane with boredom at this point. It was now technically curfew for the prisoners, but Dillon hadn't listened to others on how to live his life since he was twelve. All he knew was that Truman hadn't come back yet and Ziggy was no where near sleep. "Are you okay?" he asked, bracing himself onto his elbow. They hadn't talked about the incident in the mess hall since arriving back in the cell, Ziggy remaining firmly quiet about the whole thing.<p>

Ziggy paused and glanced at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just not tired." He said cheerfully. Dillon watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Who were those men?" he asked.

The younger man didn't answer for a moment then sighed and explained, "They're Cartel."

"You know the mob?" he asked dubiously.

Ziggy smiled widely at his tone, but something about his smile rang untrue. "I'm **part** of the mob." He said.

"What did you do to piss them off?"

"Oh, this and that." Ziggy said, waving a hand airily. Dillon rolled his eyes. "If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

"Okay, I don't want to tell you."

Dillon rolled his eyes and was about to drop the subject entirely when he remembered. "What did he mean?" he asked quietly, "About you being good?"

Ziggy went tense all over and his temper immediately chilled, walking that fine line between sanity and the cold. Funny, Dillon hadn't actually thought the boy was a Predator, even though only two demon races were Passive. Dillon knew, abstractly, that Ziggy wasn't actually angry _with _him. His nerves ad the fear were merely making his temper sharper than usual. That didn't change the fact that this rising cold felt somehow wrong.

Then it happened again; Ziggy's scent firmed up into something impossible. Only for a second, too quick for Dillon to really be sure, except he doubted anyone could mistake the feel of _that_ race. Then Ziggy went hazy again.

The younger man turned to look at him angrily. This time, Dillon got a very good look at his eyes. Not pale brown, not even brown anymore; Ziggy had woodland eyes. "Are you being dumb on purpose?" he demanded heatedly.

"No." Dillon said slowly, beyond confused at this point. What the fuck _was_ Ziggy?

Ziggy watched him for a minute before seeming to realize Dillon was telling the truth. His temper warmed to normal and Dillon watched the rather unnerving sight of Ziggy's eyes changing color. The green specks vanished completely and the brown lightened until they were the same plain shade Dillon had first seen in the desert. "He thinks I'm paying you to protect me by having sex with you." Ziggy explained.

Dillon wasn't sure he could get more confused. "Berserks only sleep with their Mates." He pointed out. "If we were Mated, you would smell like me." Not to mention that if they had been Mated the man that had lunged for Ziggy would be dead.

"They think I'm a whore." Ziggy said, lips curling in disgust, as if that somehow explained everything.

Before Dillon could say anything, Ziggy jumped onto the bed above him. "Goodnight, Dillon." Ziggy said in a firm voice, abruptly ending the conversation.

Dillon frowned up at the darkness above him, thought back to the mess hall and a few minutes ago, thought back to Ziggy's changing eyes and impossible psychic scent.

Wondered why one of the demon kind felt like a Dea al Mon


	6. Chapter 6

7 Steps from Humanity

Part Two: The Pack

Chapter 3

Scott had been having a nice breakfast; well, if one ignored the fact that Flynn was cooking. Flynn could make an amazing drink, but when he cooked, things got interesting. But overall, things had been going alright before K had entered.

K had that _look_. That _I was right, you were wrong, bow down and worship my brilliance _look.

…Okay, so maybe he was over-exaggerating that last part, but still. K had this smug, superior look when a theory of hers proved correct, especially when it was on a subject that had left the rest of them stumped. Scott kind of hated that look; it made him feel like an idiot and he got that enough from the twins.

"Yes?" he asked when she stopped next to him in the kitchen.

"I was right." She told him smugly.

_Of course you were,_ he thought to himself. "About what?"

"Grover."

Flynn paused where he was working at the stove and looked at K over his shoulder. "Ye know wha' the lad is? Tha's good, maybe the twins will calm down."

K's smile grew. "He's a half-breed."

"I thought that was a myth!" Summer said from next to him. Scott had to admit, he was a little skeptic himself. Half-breeds were a genetic phenomena that no one had quite been able to explain. It occurred by accident, some fluke mutation in the DNA, so that when the bloodlines finished settling, two primary bloodlines emerged, instead of a primary and secondary. Half-breed was a bad term for it, really, since Half-breeds weren't _half_ anything. They were two different races at the same time, possessing the ability to shift between them with a thought, easily and harmlessly.

"It's rare, but it's not unheard of." K corrected. "There are documented cases. One of the British Prime Ministers was a Half-Breed; a Fae and Lord of the Woods mix."

"But I thought," Scott said, holding up a hand to get K's attention. "I thought Half-Breeds were two different races with the ability to change between them at will. The two bloodlines don't mix; they're separate. The psychic scent should show that. I don't get where a fuzzy psychic scent comes in."

"That's true, except, by the time Half-Breeds hit puberty they should be able to achieve an in-between state, halfway between one race and the other. It could cause that fuzziness you're sensing because they technically aren't any race at all. You've probably never heard of such a thing before because it doesn't serve any true purpose; it's a control exercise."

"Except Grover's using it to hide what he is." Scott said, and slumped in his seat. K nodded.

"The guy feels like demon kind." Summer said.

"More than likely that's because both of his races are demon kind. The feel of it would permeate no matter what."

Scott rubbed his eyes. "What about Kane's sister? The Siren?" he asked. He really didn't like the way K's expression immediately dropped. K's woodland eyes flickered away. "It's bad, isn't it?" he asked, grimacing.

K opened her mouth to say something then paused. Then, she sighed heavily and looked at him with dark eyes as she solemnly informed him. "There are no registered Sirens within Corinth or any of the safe cities we have managed to contact this past year."

Which was just the kind way of saying Sirens were on the extinct list.

"He's gonna run now." Scott said with disappointment.

"Why?" Flynn asked, frowning at him. One hand was still holding the spatula, which was dripping batter onto the floor.

"What do you mean why? His sister could be-"

"No, no." Flynn interrupted, shaking his head. He paused when the motion translated down his arm and a bit of batter splashed against his hand. He turned back to the stove even as he continued to talk to Scott. "Why do we wan' 'em to stay? When did tha' happen?"

Scott hesitated then rubbed the back of his head. "Well, actually I wanted to talk to you all about it once I found out about the sister."

There was a sudden shift from the corner of his eye and when he turned to look, the twins were standing just over Summer's shoulder. "Oh, this should be good." Gem said, wide grin on his face.

Summer's shoulders jumped in surprise, woodland eyes wide as she spun to face the twins. "I thought we agreed you'd never do that when it was just the team." Summer said, voice tight with surprise and irritation.

The twins' smiles got airy. "You agreed to that, yes," Gemma said.

"We didn't. We just went with it." Gem chirped.

Flynn snorted in amusement and waved the twins over. Gem immediately shuffled over, peering over Flynn's shoulder curiously at what he was making. Scott wasn't sure if the way Gem's brows drew together was a good thing or not.

"About Kane?" Summer urged as Gemma leaned against the counter. Every few seconds, Gemma would reach back with her foot and nudge either her brother or Flynn.

"About Kane." Scott agreed and looked over at K. "It was something you said, back when we first became Rangers. And I guess it stuck with me because I'm suddenly remembering it."

"So this is all my fault?" K asked, one eyebrow raised raised.

"Pretty much, yeah." He agreed, smiling to take the bite out of it.

"Gem?" Flynn asked suddenly. "Ye okay?"

Scott looked over quickly. At some point in the conversation, Gem had wrapped his arms around Flynn's waist and started nuzzling his neck. Except now he'd gone still, shoulders hitched up like they did when he went tense. After a minute, Gem slowly eased and lifted his head from Flynn's shoulder. "'M fine." He muttered and offered a bright smile.

Flynn continued to stare at him, looking entirely unconvinced. Gem turned to Scott quickly. "What'd she say?"

Scott stared as well before saying. "We're not looking for fighters. We're looking for protectors." When they all did was stare at him, the twins with looks that said they didn't even remember that, he added. "He is a Berserker."

"You want to make Kane a Ranger?" Summer asked, sounding skeptical.

"You don't?" Scott asked right back. "He's a Berserker! Name me someone, _anyone_, better for the job." Summer opened her mouth and raised a finger to answer than stopped; dropped her hand back into her lap. "Damn you." She said without heat.

"You're crazy." K said empathetically, which was strange for the usually cool woman.

And of course, whenever she got like that, he had to get cheeky. "Oh, completely." He agreed brightly. K rolled her eyes in disbelief and looked over at Flynn and the twins. Mostly at the twins. "What do you think?"

K was a genius but she always forgot one thing when dealing with the twins. It wasn't just the twins anymore, it was the Twins-and-Flynn. They'd Mated almost two months ago, Scott honestly thought she should remember by now. As it was, all three glanced between each other before Gemma looked back at K. "It is crazy."

"But…" Gem hedged.

"Tha's why it's gonna work." Flynn finished for them.

Scott immediately pointed at the Human. "Oi! You swore you'd never finish their sentences when you started dating them!"

Flynn blinked then grinned. "Sorry." He said, sounding completely unapologetic.

"Fine." K said. "Now how are you going to get him on the team with his sister outside the walls?"

"I'm still working on that part?" Scott hedged, wishing he hadn't made it sound so much like a question, and gave K his best unsure-but-game smile.

K just sighed. "Of course you are.

* * *

><p>Dillon woke up to a knock against the bars of his cell. He sat up immediately, eyes focusing on the man standing just outside his cell and watching him with an unsure smile. He relaxed slightly when he recognized Truman and glanced at the bunk above his. Ziggy didn't do anything. He stood up and looked at the young man; he was asleep. He sighed heavily. Ziggy had taken a long time to fall asleep last night, they both had; neither felt very safe here.<p>

"Let him sleep." Truman said calmly. "We'll be right across the hall, you can keep an eye on him there."

Dillon looked back at the Ranger and nodded, following him quickly. "My sister?" he asked immediately.

"I am sorry to report there are no Sirens currently registered with Corinth city." Truman said. Funny thing was, Dillon actually believed he truly was sorry. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bars. "Damn it." He breathed, and despite how quiet the words were, they echoed all his exhausted frustration and helplessness.

Truman left him to his thoughts for a few minutes before speaking up. "Now, I know you're going to want to leave immediately, but if you're willing to wait a few hours, I have a proposition for you."

"Really?"

"You two get your things back, come with me to the base, listen to my offer, get a good meal, and if you don't agree with me, you get in your car and leave."

"I could leave now."

"You could." Truman agreed, which made him pause. "But, if you want your things back you're going to have to fight all the guards. You could probably manage that, but you'll have to keep an eye on Grover, since there's no way you're leaving here without him. You two make it pass them, you're going to have to grab supplies, which means even more guards. By this point, an alarm will have gone off, meaning the military is on its way, and once its confirmed its you, the Rangers will be too. You won't have time to grab enough supplies for both of you if you want to get your car, which you'll have to find in lockup while we shut down the city. Of course, you could leave Grover in the city, but he'll just end up back here for breaking out in the first place. Or, you could abandon the car, but you'll have to outrun the VENJIX patrols out in the Wastes on foot. And that's all if you get out of the city in the first place."

"Point." Dillon agreed and looked closer at Truman. "You plan that speech?"

"Yeah." Truman said, red eyes glittering in amusement. "Was it rushed? It felt a bit rushed."

"A bit." He agreed. Truman smiled at him, all good humor. "If I don't agree, I can leave?" he asked; Truman nodded. "What about Ziggy?"

"You mean Grover?" Truman asked. "The situation is… complicated."

"Complicated? How is it complicated? He came in with me, he's in here with me, he leaves with me."

"You have to see it from our perspective." Truman said and grimaced at the look he received. "Grover comes in, fills out _half_ a registration form, and then, somehow, in a city of maybe 5000, he disappears. I am being completely serious, for nearly a year, Grover just vanishes off the grid. You don't just do that in a walled city without practice, so he's probably used to living as a gypsy. In this city, being off the grip for any extended amount of time usually means crime, so at the very least, he's a thief; he's good at it, we can't pin anything on him, so he's been doing it for a long while.

"And then he slips back on the grid, as he's slipping _out_ of the city. He's gone for two weeks, just two, and then he's comes back with you, who feels like VENJIX, who he had to know felt like VENJIX. It's a little suspicious. Of the two of you, I'd honestly say he's the one I'd choose as working for VENJIX."

"He's not working for VENJIX."

"We can't know that."

"You don't know I'm not either."

"You're leaving."

"You don't want me to."

That gave Truman pause. "You're right, I don't. I think you'd be an excellent addition to the team and I'd hate to lose that." Truman told him, which made him stop. Truman wanted him to be a Ranger? Seriously? Truman continued, "We protect people, Kane, and I can't think of anyone better for the job. I've seen how you act with Grover, so I know those implants aren't affecting your instincts; Doctor K doesn't think they're affecting your thinking at all. My team is willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, to believe that you're a victim in this."

"They must also believe you're crazy."

"Oh yeah. But it's my sane plans that fail spectacularly. Drives my father nuts."

Dillon grinned slightly. "I just have to listen?"

"Yep."

"I'll go wake up Ziggy." He agreed, and decided to ignore the smirk on Truman's face.

* * *

><p>It was a circus. That's what the team was. A circus. Because seriously? He didn't think you could get more ragtag than this team was. Now, he understood why Scott came off as slightly insane; there was no way to stay sane on this team. The only vaguely normal person on the team was McAllistair, and he was Mated to two Deal al Mon. Twin Deal al Mon who practically read each other's minds, but still <em>two Dea al Mon. <em>That must have been an interesting courting process; he was so glad he hadn't been there to see it. Dillon had almost been worried about the man, but there had been a quiet steel to him, along with a seemingly endless patience and good humor.

The Witch had been waiting for them when they'd arrived. She had a pleasant smile, short blonde hair, and her arms had been littered with tiny scars that she didn't seem to realize were there anymore. She had looked him over once before asking, "Do you have any issues?" Except the way she had asked it, he was pretty sure it had been Issues, capital I and all. Truman had made a sound of amusement behind him as he'd hedged out a yes. Landsdown' smile had grown wide. "You'll fit right in then." She said. Which made him a little wary of meeting the rest of the team.

As they'd entered, Ziggy had leaned into him, all warmth and trust and sly amusement. "Truman's into her." Ziggy had warned him. "Like, seriously, probably end up Mated, into her." Dillon had no idea where Ziggy had gotten that impression; there was nothing he could see in body language or scent to give it, but something told him Ziggy knew these things the same way he knew that there were four exits to outside and the door in the kitchen was locked at the moment.

The twins he'd written off as a relatively harmless kind of crazy; at least, harmless until they got upset. He was pointedly _not_ thinking about the fact that they were more uneasy around Ziggy than him.

The doctor, though, the doctor had taken the cake. She was arrogant and, unfortunately, had the mind to back it up. She was too smart for her own good; it kind of reminded him of Amara, in a way. Amara would like her, he decided, at the same time deciding they should never, under any circumstances, meet, lest he lose what was left of his sanity.

He was just so glad to be out of that building.

"What do you think?" Dillon asked Ziggy quietly as they sat down at the table in the diner. Truman had taken them out for lunch, as promised; Scott and the Witch had accompanied them but had decided to take a different table to let him think; their table was also closer to the door.

Ziggy glanced at the two Rangers over his shoulder even as he deftly unwrapped the silverware and palmed the butter knife away. It was the fourth knife Ziggy had managed to get his hands on since exiting the jail, two of which he'd taken from the Ranger's kitchen. Dillon didn't even know where he was putting them. This squirreling away of anything sharp was so typically Dea al Mon that it hurt Dillon's head to think about. "They're sincere." Ziggy said, turning back to him, and if the shading of his eyes was off Dillon wasn't acknowledging it. "And I bet they're willing to negotiate."

"No, I meant, what do you think I should do?"

"Not my place to say." Ziggy said, snatching one of the menus from the holder by the edge. "I'm not Pack."

"But you are." He said, frowning.

Ziggy's eyes shot up to him, face frozen in shock. Dillon felt a chill go through him as he realized. Sometimes, resonation didn't go both ways; sometimes, the non-Pack races didn't even realize they part of a resonation. And despite knowing that, Dillon hadn't even considered that, while Ziggy was his Pack, he wasn't Ziggy's. But that wasn't the big thing, not really. You didn't need a resonation to have a Pack. Of the millions of Packs that had existed before VENJIX, maybe one in every ten had contained a single resonation. All the others had been formed over time and he could do that with Ziggy, could get the younger man to accept him the longer way.

No, the bad part was that Ziggy hadn't even realized he was Pack. Despite what had happened in the jail, Ziggy hadn't even thought of it. Ziggy had leashed him three times now and he'd been sure Ziggy had known he was doing it, that Ziggy had trusted the bond to hold Dillon back. He hadn't. Ziggy had had no promise that Dillon wouldn't turn on him and he'd done it anyways.

Then Ziggy smiled, slight and teasing, and he still looked like someone had smacked him with something heavy. "Wow, you're really desperate for a Pack, aren't you?" he said.

Dillon huffed but before he could respond, a waitress moved from Truman's table to theirs, looking nervous and pale. Dillon was a little worried about her fainting. The waitress kept giving him terrified looks as she squeaked out her name and asked for their orders. Dillon sighed and leaned back as Ziggy turned the full weight of his smile onto her. By the time the woman left, she was completely charmed and looked more than a little stunned, a slight, flattering blush on her cheeks. Dillon honestly couldn't blame her for the reaction.

"You're incorrigible." Dillon told Ziggy. Ziggy laughed, a rich sound that dragged a smile up, no matter how hard Dillon tried to push it down.

"Thank you." Ziggy said gleefully. After a few minutes, Ziggy grinned brightly. "Hey, maybe you could get them to help you find your sister!"

"How do you think that's going to work?"

"Well," Ziggy said, spreading his arms wide. The motion revealed the bare skin of Ziggy's wrists; seriously, where had he put the knives? "She's not in here. She's got to be out there. I saw some of those strongholds while I was outside, from a distance admittedly, but they were still pretty huge. You can't get through there by yourself. Having a team to back you up will help. And you'll have a lot of medical equipment when you get back. Not to mention a place to come back to. It would be a little cold-hearted for them to just say no."

"So you're for me joining?" he asked.

"I'm for nothing. I'm just pointing things out." Ziggy said calmly.

Dillon smiled again and leaned forward to watch him. "Say I leave, would you come with me?" he asked.

Ziggy paused and gave him a weird look. "I just got back." He said with a frown. "I think I've had enough of the Wastes for a while."

"I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."

"You had no problem with it before." Ziggy said, brow furrowing.

"That's before I learned a jail worth of guys wanted to kill you." He hissed.

"Oh, they don't want to kill me, at least not immediately." Ziggy said. "I'd much rather die than let them get a hold of me."

Dillon was aware, peripherally, that the diner had just gotten a little too cold and that the Rangers were now watching him nervously; that Ziggy's charmed little waitress looked close to tears of fright. And that it might be his fault. Ziggy just leaned back in his chair and frowned at him. "A bit not good?" he asked, looking wholly unconcerned.

"A bit." He agreed with too much control.

Truman had stood up and was walking towards them, looking unsure. As he did, Ziggy flicked his wrist, a swift, barely there motion that pulled Dillon's eyes down instinctively. The butter knife Ziggy had "acquired" was resting comfortably in Ziggy's palm; Ziggy twirled it between his fingers with practiced ease before placing it back wherever he'd been hiding it. Dillon frowned as Truman stopped next to them, understanding Ziggy's silent message that he could take care of himself. If he actually could or not didn't matter because Dillon could still see him pressed against the wall of their cell, too scared to even think properly. How was he supposed to leave Ziggy behind with that image stuck in his head?

…Sometimes, being a Pack Race _sucked._

"Everything okay?" Truman asked.

"You'd better be able to fucking negotiate." He growled at Truman, settling moodily in his seat as his temper warmed. More than one person sighed in relief.

Truman's eyes flickered towards Ziggy briefly in understanding before going back to him. "I'm sure we can work something out." He replied genially.

* * *

><p>"Once a month." Truman said firmly.<p>

Dillon arched an eyebrow. "A month?" he echoed in disbelief. Ziggy had been right; the Rangers weren't entirely adverse to the idea of helping him find his sister, especially if raiding VENJIX holds was involved. _"We try to be self-sufficient." _Truman had said with a shrug. _"But we always seem to have a shortage of something."_

"_Like intelligence." _The doc had muttered from behind her computer screen. Dillon wasn't quite sure if she had meant IQ or knowledge about VENJIX. He had a feeling it might have been both.

"One factory, once a month." Truman repeated. "Anything more and VENJIX will notice we're looking for more than supplies and info. If he knows we're looking for more than that, he'll set traps." Truman raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of him. "That one's none negotiable."

"He's got a point." Ziggy agreed from where he was sitting on a stepladder nearby.

_You're supposed to be on my side._ Dillon thought belligerently, but didn't voice it. "Fine." He said instead, but made sure his tone said he didn't like it.

Truman smiled happily. "Right. Anything else?"

He jerked a thumb in Ziggy's direction. "He gets out of jail with me." Truman grimaced, like he'd seen this coming all along. Dillon smirked. "Problem?" he asked.

"Asides from the fact that he's taking all of our knives?" Truman replied sarcastically. Dillon shrugged to hide his surprise. He hadn't thought they'd noticed that. From the slight sound Ziggy made, he hadn't either. "Nothing I can come up with." Truman finally admitted. "Though my father really isn't going to like this."

"I honestly don't care what you're father thinks."

The Witch- it was Landsdown, right? Or should he be calling them by their first names now?-, who had been passing by the lab, snorted in amusement. "Oh, he'll fit right in." She said gleefully. Dillon smirked as Truman snorted. "Anything else?" Truman asked.

"Nope. We have a deal." He replied; Truman looked almost relieved. "So, do I get my own personal 'here I am, shoot me now' uniform now?" he asked.

Truman bit his lip to hide his smile. "Sorry Kane. I was thinking of putting you in something black. You don't strike me as a shiny, neon kind of person."

"You never know." Dillon said, deadpan. "I may have a secret love of pink and sparkles."

Truman grinned, wide and startlingly boyish. "I would pay to see that."

"But no matter how much you offer, it will never be enough."

Truman laughed. "What a shame." He said before turning and starting to walk away. "I'll get to work on the paperwork for your release. I'd prefer it if you two didn't leave until I finish." Truman stopped and turned enough to lock eyes with Ziggy. "And if our knives somehow found their way back to their proper places, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"I make no promises, Captain." Ziggy said solemnly and snapped off a smart salute. Truman rolled his eyes and continued walking away.

Ziggy looked at him with amused eyes. "Congratulations." He said cheerfully.

"I think I'm doomed." He said in reply. Ziggy laughed, short and quiet. "What are you going to do now?" Dillon asked, stepping closer. Ziggy frowned and tilted his head to the side slightly. "I was only gone for a few days." Ziggy replied thoughtfully. "They shouldn't have sold my apartment yet. Not that there's really anyone to sell it to. I'll probably go back there."

"You gonna be okay?" he asked.

Ziggy nodded. "I'll be fine. I can run faster than they can."

"Can you not sound so cheerful about that?"

Ziggy laughed. "If I'm not cheerful, I'm going to flip the fuck out." He said brightly. "And that won't be pretty. After all, I have the Rangers' knives."

Dillon pressed his lips together. "You could stay here." He suggested.

"Here?" Ziggy asked blankly.

Dillon nodded. "Here at the Garage. With the Rangers. Where you'll be safe."

"Where you can keep an eye on me?" Ziggy said with a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I wasn't going to say it, but yeah."

Ziggy looked around briefly, almost curious, then shook his head. "Nah." He declined. "It's not really my style. Besides, I think I make the twins uncomfortable."

"Well, I can't force you." He said and shrugged. "But if you need anything, I'm here."

Ziggy's smile was soft and sweet. "I'll keep that in mind."


	7. Chapter 7

7 Steps from Humanity

Part Two: The Pack

Chapter 4

The Ranger technology had been designed in a series of three. First had come Red, Blue, and Yellow; then Black and Green; finally, Silver and Gold. Because of that, the tech of Black and Green complemented each other. It was built for partners.

Right now they had a Black; they were just short a Green.

Dr K had kept the files of the original thirteen candidates. She went through them now, re-examining the profiles of people she'd half-forgotten. Going over them now, a year later, proved one thing; she'd made the right choice in her original three Rangers. Having seen them grow into each other this past year, she knew that none of the others could have possibly given her the same results. (Admittedly, the twins' Mating to Flynn might have influenced her opinion.)

Now, she had to find someone who'd she'd basically marked as second-rate to a Human. Even more, she had to find one that would work with Kane, who felt like VENJIX. She doubted those few who would put up with Flynn would do so.

A knock drew her from the file of a Sprite. She lifted her head, ignoring the twig her neck gave from having been bent over for so long, to see Marcus standing in the doorway of her lab. He was still wearing his ABUs, hands tucked into his pockets; there was a smudge of grease on one cheek, probably obtained from working in the hanger, she doubted he noticed. Marcus had too many responsibilities in the city; in addition to working as 2IC (which was a full-time job itself), he also worked as a military adviser to the Rangers (which even Mason admitted was redundant with Scott on the team, but was protocol with Scott no longer training with the military), and helped out the few remaining Air Force pilots when they required it. Marcus was stretched thin at the best of times, not that he complained. "Good afternoon, K." He greeted, smiling slightly. "Father sent me."

"Of course he has." She said with an irritated sigh and closed the file. "Has he forgotten how to use the phone again?"

"Perhaps he doesn't wish to challenge your wit again. Or maybe I'm just here to spy."

"Isn't that what you always do?"

"So cruel Doc." Marcus said with the boyish smile Scott had obviously learned from him. She scowled at him; she had told him not to call her Doc. "Well, I'm here, no matter the reason. Anything you need?"

"A second opinion." She said without hesitation, because Marcus was a surprisingly good strategist; perhaps because he had spent so much time running interference between his father and brother. "We need a Ranger Green."

Marcus arched an eyebrow but approached her desk, eyeing the stacked files. "I remember Stochem being one of father's top picks." He said, brow drawing together.

"The Lord of the Woods?" she asked. Marcus nodded. "He pulled his candidacy after we announced our Blue Ranger."

Marcus sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "The military leader is Human. I really don't see what the big problem is about Flynn."

"Like you said, the _military _leader. Mason was vetted long before the war and already had the respect of his men before he gained command, same with you. Flynn doesn't even have any military training."

Marcus frowned and picked up one of the files, flipping through it with half an eye. "Where is everyone? This place is like a ghost town."

"Summer and Scott are working in the garden." She said calmly. Marcus looked briefly surprised then amused. "I believe Flynn and the twins have gone shopping. You just missed Kane."

Marcus's eyes shot up to her. "Just missed him? He left the Garage?"

Dr K raised one eyebrow slowly. "I was unaware we were keeping him under house arrest."

"Do you really think letting a man who feels like VENJIX wander the city without escort is a good idea? There'll be panic."

"He's wearing the uniform and morpher. Since the Ranger energy doesn't affect psychic scent, that's all the markings the others have as well. I don't see what him having an escort will do. Besides, Grover came over. Kane's escorting him home. Would you like to tell him he can't?"

Marcus frowned again. "How's he doing anyway? Fitting in alright?"

"Fine. He and your brother get along surprisingly well. Even the twins have adjusted to his presence." It was true. Scott and Kane had a quiet respect for each other that was allowing two alpha personalities to work together. Which was good, if odd; she had expected Kane to bulk against Truman's leadership, had been prepared for challenges and fights. Instead, Kane had settled into the team with nothing more than a few sarcastic comments. Even the twins had adjusted unexpectedly fast. _Adjusted_, because he wasn't Pack yet, wasn't fully trusted. But they no longer watched his every move, no longer went tense when he talked to Flynn. Which was more than she'd thought to ask of them after only three days.

"That's good. Father will be pleased." Marcus paused briefly. "Though I doubt anyone here cares."

She made a slight sound of amusement, because they did sometimes give off the air of not caring what Mason thought; Kane probably honestly didn't. They did listen though, tried not to piss him off too much.

"We're working on it."

-0-0-

"I'm impressed." Ziggy said, eyeing him critically. He was walking backwards down the sidewalk, somehow managing to weave his way through the dozens of people effortlessly. Dillon watched him with an amused eye, beyond wondering how Ziggy did half the things he did (he'd stopped somewhere between jail and the Rangers informing him Ziggy was a Half-breed, because thinking about Ziggy's biology hurt his head too much). Ziggy was looking over the black jacket he'd gained, the Rangers' "uniform". Dillon was just glad it wasn't neon, because he knew that if anyone could make black seem neon, it would the Rangers. "It suits you." Ziggy finally said after a moment of consideration, eyes gleaming. "They're not beating you up are they?" he asked with wicked amusement.

"The Doc's running me into the ground." He said honestly. Ziggy laughed and spun around so he was walking normally, dropping back so they brushed shoulders slightly. The nearness sent Ziggy's psychic scent crashing around him, rich and dark and more addictive than the best drug. He struggled not to lean into it, to wrap himself in that scent completely. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "She believes that myth. You know, the one that says Berserkers can use every weapon from instinct."

Ziggy's eyebrows drew together. "Isn't she supposed to be smart?" he asked. Ziggy looked up at him for a moment; then his eyes slid past, over his shoulder to look behind them.

"I'm hoping she just wanted to see where the myth started." He said, frowning slightly at the strange behavior. It wasn't the first time Ziggy had done it. Dillon was beginning to think the reason he'd started to walk backwards was so that he could have a clear view of behind them.

"Isn't it that Berserkers just know how to use everything _as_ a weapon?" Ziggy asked, eyes snapping back to his. Dillon nodded.

"You sure you didn't know a Berserker before me? You know an awful lot about us."

"Maybe I just looked you up." Ziggy said with a teasing smile. Dillon snorted and purposely leaned over to knock shoulders with Ziggy.

"Did you know that myth about Dea al Mon having claws is true?"

"You saw those?" Ziggy asked, eyes going wide. He nodded. "Wow. You're still alive. The only ones who see them tend to be the wrong end of them."

"You knew about them." Dillon pointed out. Ziggy shrugged carelessly, like he didn't sometimes register as a Dea al Mon. The other Rangers thought Ziggy was a full Demon; Dillon knew better, knew Ziggy just rested closer to his demon kind bloodline than the Dea al Mon. Not that he was telling the others that. Dillon didn't think they'd take the idea of an unregistered Deal al Mon wandering the city very well; an unknown demon kind, maybe, but not a Dea al Mon.

Dillon pressed his lips together as they turned a corner, Ziggy using the movement to glance back the way they'd come. A slow, creeping chill spread through him as he realized what Ziggy was doing. "Who do I have to kill?" he asked too softly, making Ziggy look over at him again.

"What?" Ziggy asked, eyes just a bit too wide for his confusion and naivety to be real.

"Someone's following you. Or at least, you think someone's following you. You keep looking over your shoulder."

"Oh." Ziggy breathed, his surprise real this time. "I didn't think you'd noticed that."

"I always notice." Ziggy's smile was a slow developing thing in response, small and almost shy and he looked like he had at the diner, like someone had smacked him with something unexpected and amazing. Dillon thought it was a good look for him. "Are you sure we should be heading back to your apartment?"

"There's no one actually following us now." Ziggy assured. "I'm not that stupid."

"Of course you're not." Dillon agreed, then continued with sudden realization. "That's why you came to the Garage. You thought showing you knew the Rangers would scare them off."

"Well," Ziggy admitted, "It seems to have worked. And you did say I could stop by if I needed anything."

Dillon smiled despite himself. "Fine." He agreed. "You've got a point."

Ziggy's smile turned the slightest bit smug. They didn't talk for the rest of the walk. Their arms brushed as they moved, heat soaked through the leather. Ziggy kept glancing over his shoulder every few feet; Dillon did his best to ignore it, tried to keep his shoulders from tensing for a fight. But despite that, it was a peaceful walk.

Ziggy lived on the third floor of an apartment complex. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, Dillon observed as they walked through the lobby. "Do you want to come up?" Ziggy asked, looking over at him as he started up the stairs.

Dillon blinked in surprise. "Can I?" he asked. Predators were territorial at the best of times. Being invited into a Predator's house was a sign of immense trust. It was more than he'd expected from Ziggy, who he was beginning to think was rather bad at the whole trust thing. Ziggy shrugged. "Sure. It's not a problem."

Dillon followed obediently. All the doors were the same; there wasn't anything about Ziggy's that seemed different. But when he opened it, Ziggy said over his shoulder, "Come in and be welcome."

Dillon paused just inside the apartment when the formal phrasing sunk in, turning to look at Ziggy in confusion. He knew that phrase, had heard it before. It was a Witch's phrase. When he turned around, he saw it; the familiar blue marks withering across the woodwork of the doorframe. "You've had the place warded." He said in surprise and amazement.

Ziggy shrugged again. "A witch owed me a favor." He said calmly, as if it was some small thing. Wards required not only a great amount of power, but required several years of training to master.

"Must have been some favor." He replied.

"I'm very good at what I do."

"And what exactly do you do?"

Ziggy smiled as he walked towards Dillon, right into his personal space, maybe an inch of air between them. Ziggy looked up at him from beneath the fringe of his hair, all sly amusement and rich brown eyes. Dillon thought he'd be willing to do just about anything Ziggy asked of him if Ziggy looked at him like that. "Oh Dillon." Ziggy breathed, close enough that Dillon could feel the tiny puff of his breath. "Where is the fun in just telling you?"

Dillon raised his eyes to the ceiling as Ziggy walked away, swallowing thickly. He gave himself a few seconds to just breathe, to let himself forget the small waves of heat Ziggy had given off, before he followed Ziggy.

The whole apartment smelt like Ziggy. There wasn't a single other scent in the whole apartment to dampen it. He leaned against the wall near the kitchen, closed his eyes, and just breathed for a moment, letting the scent settle around him. It was… actually more soothing than he'd thought. Whenever he was with Ziggy, his psychic scent teased at him, tried to draw him in. He hadn't realized that the sexuality Ziggy emitted like second nature had influenced his perception of his psychic scent.

"Beer?" Ziggy called from the kitchen. He opened his eyes again and glanced towards him. The kitchen was definitely the nicest part of the house, well-taken care of and nearly spotless. There were cooking machines across the counter that he didn't have a clue what they did.

"Sure." He agreed as he moved towards one of the counter chairs, glad now he hadn't driven them here (Not that he could have anyway; Flynn was still fixing all the damage caused by the Waste sand). Ziggy seemed looser here, a tension he hadn't noticed before draining from his shoulders. Dillon couldn't stop the slight smile that slipped across his face when he noticed.

Ziggy handed him a bottle before hopping up on the counter in front of him. He crossed his legs, easily popped the cap off, and took a large swing of the beer. "What are you going to do now?" Dillon asked in curiosity.

"I'm actually in the process of looking for an old friend. He helped me escape the city. I wanted to make sure he was okay, but I can't find him." Ziggy looked over at him with a slight smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Definitely." He agreed. Ziggy's smile seemed to widen at the reassurance and he straightened slightly, fingers starting to dance across the bottle neck. Dillon couldn't help but follow the movement with his eyes, watching those long fingers catch little beads of perspiration. He shifted awkwardly, trying to fight off the imagery the sight conjured, because once it was in his head he knew he'd never be able to get it out. Ziggy had to be doing that on purpose. Dillon didn't even want to contemplate the idea that this blatant sexuality and teasing was subconscious, that Ziggy did it completely without thinking.

He pulled his attention back upwards. Ziggy's eyes looked paler than usual, more of a toffee color than chocolate; his scent had shifted as well, the darkness growing, firming up just enough to tease him with a hint of what the younger man was. Dillon couldn't pin it down completely, but it bothered him. It felt like he had all the pieces but wasn't seeing the whole picture, a very obvious picture. "You okay there, Dillon?" Ziggy asked, seeming amused. Oh yeah, he knew what he was doing.

He was struck then with the urge to do something wild and reckless, something Ziggy's knowing eyes didn't expect. Like maybe kiss him. But that was a dangerous road of thinking. Dillon was pretty sure that if he started kissing Ziggy, he wouldn't stop. "I need to be going." He said instead.

He didn't move though, and Ziggy's smile was invitation enough to stay for a while more.

-0-0-

When Dillon finally returned, Scott was in the kitchen washing his hands, digging dirt out from under his fingernails. Dillon eyed the empty plant pots on the counter, the wet soil on Scott's knees, and the half ajar door leading outside, and thought back to Summer saying that morning that she wanted to add on to the garden. The first, obvious conclusion was that Scott had helped. Except there was no way a Witch would let someone not family touch their garden, even if Ziggy thought they were close enough to be Mated. "You weren't working in the garden were you?" he asked skeptically.

Scott jerked, startled, and spun to face him. "No sneaking up on people. It's a rule." He said automatically then paused and frowned. A slow blush spread up his neck. "What?"

"You **were** working in the garden. Summer let you work in the garden?"

Scott's blush darkened. "What about it?"

"You've got it _bad._"

Scott scowled at him as Summer entered with the watering can and hoes, kicking the door shut behind her. "Welcome back Dillon." She greeted cheerfully as she dumped her tools in the sink for later cleaning. Her hair had been pulled into a sloppy bun, her hands were stained brown with soil, and there was a smudge of dirt over her left eyebrow. It was so classically Witch he couldn't help but be amused. "How's Ziggy? He seemed a bit nervous before." She asked as she snagged a towel, rubbing at the dark stains on her fingers.

"He's fine."

"That's good." She said. Then she paused as if waiting for something. When nothing immediately happened, Summer turned and jabbed her finger into Scott's ribs. The Vampire yelped and jumped away, glaring at her irritably. When Summer merely stared back, Scott turned towards him, one hand rubbing at his abused ribs.

"You know," he said, "If Grover's having any sort of trouble, he can stay here. We can work something out."

"I already offered." He said, watching a brief, annoyed look cross Scott's face. "He declined."

"Well, the offer's open." Summer said before Scott could open his mouth. Scott glared at her before sighing and tugging the towel out of her hands. "Oh, here." He said and starting wiping at the mark on her forehead. "Is it possible for you not to get covered in dirt?"

Summer's wide grin was answer enough.

"Hey!"

He turned at the call to see Flynn and the twins entering. Flynn was wearing his usual calm, laid back smile and was carrying a few plastic bags. The twins looked slightly disgruntled, but that was probably because Flynn had obviously won the argument to carry the bags. Flynn smiled and held up said plastic bags. "We stopped at Callie's for food."

Summer whooped and jumped around Scott, so she could hop towards them. "Flynn, you're amazing." She said gleefully, yanking the bags from Flynn and dancing back to the kitchen.

"Clean your hands first." Scott ordered before she could start digging through the boxes. Summer scowled at him but huffed and obediently moved to the sink, though she maintained an exaggerated pout the whole way. "Doc!" Scott shouted. "Food!"

"Neist lesson." Flynn told him calmly as the twins marshaled in plates. Flynn was good at telling him the little things that kept the Garage running, the things the others forgot because they were minor or had simply become routine. "K has a horrible work ethic. She will forge' to eat if someone's nae watchin' her. It's our job to make sure she does."

"Noted." He said, accepting the white box Gem handed him.

"We weren't sure what you liked." Gem said awkwardly as he opened it. "So we just got you a burger."

"Can't go wrong with a burger." Gemma piped in, ducking around her brother to steal a handful of Flynn's fries.

"Hey!" The Blue Ranger shouted, but didn't try to get them back. Gemma winked back at her Human as she stuffed a fry in her mouth. Dillon shook his head at their antics and sat down with his burger as the Doc entered.

"How'd it go?" Scott asked the Fae, handing her a salad.

K shrugged. "I have identified five candidates who would work well with Kane's fighting style."

Dillon looked up from his burger in confusion. "What?"

"The Black and Green Ranger tech was designed to work as partners. We need to find a Green."

"Lovely." He commented.

"I'm bringing them in tomorrow to see if any of them are willing to work with you." K said, ignoring his sarcasm. She was rather good at doing so; Dillon had realized the Rangers thrived on sarcasm. It was no wonder he fit in so well.

"I'll make plans to not be here." He said, earning himself a vehement glare. "Kidding." He held both hands up. "I'll be there. I might even be polite."

K rolled her eyes and grabbed her salad so she could scurry back to the lab.

"Dude." Scott said, turning to look at him. "You're going to fit right in."

-0-0-

He couldn't stand the candidates. They didn't much like him either in all fairness, didn't trust him. He couldn't see them getting on too well with the others either. It was strange and improbable, but the team meshed together amazingly well. They understood, and even respected, each other. They had a flow between them that Dillon had been able to easily adapt to. But the candidates seemed to clash with that flow, couldn't seem to fit. Dillon didn't think they ever would.

He drove through the city recklessly fast; glad Flynn had finished the repairs before he'd disappeared this morning. Apparently the twins didn't quite trust the candidates around their Mate due to an incident from last year. At least, that was how Summer had put it. The twins' distrust was just another black mark against the candidates in his book. So here he was, driving towards Ziggy's apartment because he was irritated and because Amara was right about his horrid penchant for hovering when he was worried. And he was worried about Ziggy; not that the younger man had done anything to ease that worry.

He parked and jogged quickly through the lobby and up the stairs. He glanced around the hallway in curiosity after he'd knocked, eyeing the woven mat in front of a door a ways down. He turned around when the door opened and froze when he caught sight of Ziggy. His smile gained an edge and the air turned too cold.

"Of all times for you to come, it would be now." Ziggy said tiredly, clutching at the door, the bruise on his cheek an ugly purple-black-blue, splashed across the left side of his face.

"Who did that?" he asked quietly, eyes pined on the bruise.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." He crooned and reached forward to examine the bruise. The second his fingers slid past the doorway, the wards spun out in streaks of blue lightning, cracking at his fingertips warningly. He pulled his hand back immediately, strangling down his snarl because those things were supposed to be protecting Ziggy. "Let me in Ziggy." He said with a remarkable level of calm.

Ziggy watched him for a few seconds before stepping out of the way. "Come in and be welcome." He said.

Dillon closed the door behind him before carefully gripping Ziggy's chin and tilting his head to the side so he could better examine the bruise. "Who did this?" he asked again.

"They're already dead." Ziggy told him and the words warmed some of the Rage inside him.

"Did they suffer?"

"No."

"Too bad." He dropped his hand and watched Ziggy carefully. He finally noticed the hint of fear, of panic, hiding in Ziggy's eyes. "What happened?"

Ziggy's mouth opened to say something then slowly closed again. Ziggy's expression crumbled and he pressed a hand to his mouth to hold in a choked sob. Dillon's eyes widened when tears started to tumble out and Ziggy's shoulders shook. He stepped closer, laying a careful hand on Ziggy's shoulder. Ziggy shook his head quickly, shying away a little, taking a deep breath and seemed to gather himself. His hand dropped from his mouth and though his breath hitched warningly, he didn't cry again. "Benny, the uh… the friend I was looking for. He's dead."

"Shit." He said. Then again. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. So am I." Ziggy said, and the words were quiet and practically a whimper. The shaking was starting to come back, he noticed.

"Why don't you sit down?" He advised and carefully grasped Ziggy's elbow, leading him to the living room. Ziggy all but collapsed onto the couch.

"I should have expected it." Ziggy breathed. "I don't know why I didn't."

"No one ever expects their friends to be dead." He said and squatted down in front of him.

Ziggy stared back for a second then asked, in a trembling voice. "Is that offer to move in still open?"

Dillon jerked, eyes going wide. That was the last thing he'd expected Ziggy to say. He was spooked worse than he thought. Ziggy was too independent to casually take that offer. "Of course it is." He said. "Summer even bullied Scott into making it an official offer." Ziggy nodded shakily. "What's wrong? This is more than your friend dying."

"It's not just the Scorpion Cartel." Ziggy said. "I thought it was, but it's not. It's all of them. Stupid, I should have known after the prison." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't run from all of them."

Dillon leaned forward and placed a careful hand against Ziggy's chin. "Hey." He said, making Ziggy look up at him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." There was no denying the relief that flooded into Ziggy's eyes in response. "What did you do to piss that many people off?"

"Fresno Bob, the uh, the leader of the Scorpion Cartel, I uh… I was just so scared. I didn't think." Ziggy said, looking up at him. Despite the fear obvious in Ziggy's eyes, there was a tiny spark of pride there when he said, "I ripped his throat out."

"Go you." He said, which made Ziggy smile, just a little bit. "Go get your things. We'll go to the Garage."

As they left the apartment, Ziggy paused and looked at the door. There was a queer look in his eyes. "I don't have to get rid of it, do I?" he asked. And there it was, the instinctive territorialism most Predators felt about their homes. Honestly, as much Dillon liked to think Ziggy trusted him that much, he'd been beginning to wonder if Ziggy even felt it. His biology was screwed up enough that Ziggy might not.

"If you're going to come back to it, I don't see why you can't keep it." He replied, which was obviously the right thing to say from the way Ziggy's shoulders just relaxed. The ride back to the Garage was a short but quiet affair, Ziggy curled up in the passenger seat with his head pressed against the glass, legs tucked under him.

Scott approached him when they pulled in, but whatever he was going to say got choked up in his throat when Ziggy stepped out. Scott just stared at the younger man, taking in the red-rimmed eyes and the ugly bruise on one cheek. Finally, he pointed blindly upwards towards the bedrooms. "Third door in." he said.

Ziggy's eyes flickered up. Dillon watched him count the doors then come to the obvious conclusion. "Isn't that for a Ranger?"

"Don't have a Green. We'll figure something out when we do."

Ziggy looked back at them and, glancing between them, said empathically, "_Thank you_." Before he rushed up the stairs and hid himself in the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTICE! IMPORTANT! **I'm currently participating in the DeanCas Big Bang so will only being working on this if I'm ahead of schedule. So if chapters come out slowly, know I haven't abandonded it.

7 Steps from Humanity

Part Two: The Pack

Chapter 5

If one had been paying attention, they would know Scott was not a morning person. Asking him to be active before 9:00 was inviting disaster; besides, no matter what time he rose, he was never fully functioning without a cup of coffee. It was why his success in the military had always mystified his family.

Yet, his clock definitely said 7:27.

Scott stared at it with a frown, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw stars. He could do little more than gap when the numbers settled again. 7:18. He groaned, so tempted to flop back and sleep for another two hours. However, he knew that he'd already moved too much to just fall back asleep. So, instead, he stood up, shivering when his bare feet landed on the cold floor, and grumpily wandered downstairs. Once on the bottom floor, he became aware of a sweet scent curling within the building. He perked up when he also noticed the smell of coffee and hurried towards the kitchen.

It actually took a minute to recognize the figure leaning against the counter, frowning as he tried to pin down a psychic scent that kept slipping away from him. In the end, it was the sensuality, the way it hooked behind his navel and yanked, that reminded him. "Ziggy?" he asked.

Ziggy turned with a smile. The sight of the bruise, yellow-green against his pale skin, made Scott grimace in sympathy. Ziggy had looked so shaken yesterday that Scott had had no choice but to give him a room. Not doing so had never even crossed his mind. Once Ziggy had left, Dillon had stopped leashing his temper; and, oh, had he been pissed. It had taken all of Summer's considerable empathic abilities to keep him on the warm side of angry. But it had been that temper that had restrained Dr K to a mere disapproving glare for giving away Ranger Green's room.

"Good morning!" Ziggy chirped happily.

Scott blinked slowly, not prepared to deal with that much enthusiasm this early in the morning. As he stood there, unwilling to contemplate that a _morning person_ had joined the team, he noticed the source of the sweet smell. "Are those pancakes?" he asked in surprise.

"Yep. They're chocolate chip." Ziggy smiled a little at the way Scott was eying them. "Want some?"

Scott nodded eagerly and sat down as Ziggy pulled three onto a plate for Scott before moving away. Scott nearly moaned pathetically when he popped a piece into his mouth. "This is really good." He said once he swallowed. Ziggy smiled a touch smugly and pressed a cup of coffee into his hands. Scott beamed. "I love you." He said earnestly, making Ziggy laugh.

"Whatever you say, fearless leader." Ziggy commented lightly.

The sound of shuffling feet made him turn. Summer was blinking at them tiredly as she swayed closer; the smell had apparently woken her as well because her hair was still a mess and her makeup was undone. Her eyes inevitably fell on Scott's plate. "Are those chocolate chip?" she asked greedily. Scott actually snarled at her as he hunched protectively over his plate. She frowned at him and turned towards Ziggy. "You can cook?" Scott wished she didn't sound so desperately hopeful; it wasn't like they all sucked at cooking, it was just that none of them were very good at it. In answer, Ziggy merely gave her her own plate.

Halfway through his second pancake, the coffee already doing wonders to convince his body now was an acceptable time to be up, he noticed Dillon slip into the kitchen. "Morning." He greeted before returning to his food.

The sexual heat in the room racketed up a notch.

He paused and looked up at Ziggy. The heat was still slight enough that after the initial gut punch, it was easy enough to brush off. Yet, it felt rather like a previously tight leash had loosened just a little; a scary thought, that what he had noticed before was the heat leashed. It wasn't his imagination either; the way Ziggy stared at Dillon was more heated challenge than friendly warmth. Scott didn't think the way his head was tilted, baring the naked arch of his throat, was incidental either. "Dillon." Ziggy greeted, the way he said it making Scott want to squirm uncomfortably.

"Ziggy." Dillon returned, seemingly unaffected by the way Ziggy had bent all his attention towards him. Dillon crossed the space between them in three large strides and bet to examine his bruise. "How's this doing?" he asked quietly, making Scott feel abruptly like he was intruding on something.

"It's fine." Ziggy assured. "Want breakfast?"

Dillon nodded, stepped back, and sat down next to him. "Thank you for taking him in." Dillon said quietly, voice pitched low so Ziggy didn't hear him. "I know this is going to make things awkward with the Ranger Green situation."

Scott shrugged but before he could say anything, Summer leaned around him. "He can cook." She told Dillon sternly. "He's not leaving. Ever." Dillon chuckled at her words, gifting Ziggy with a smile when he was given breakfast.

K shuffled in next, looking around the lively kitchen in surprise. Scott couldn't blame her; this was an unusual amount of activity for 7:30 in the morning. That, of course, was when Ziggy shuffled over and all but shoved a cup of coffee into her hands and placed a piece of toast atop it. "Thank you." She said, surprised into an uncharacteristic politeness.

"Tell me I don't have to meet anymore candidates today." Dillon requested, standing to refill his coffee. Scott really hoped he didn't; he'd had the feeling Dillon was going to punch someone too many times yesterday.

Thankfully K shook her head. "No, I have more files to go through before selecting the next group. However, once you return from your shopping trip, I'll need to see Grover."

"Me?" Ziggy asked, at the same time Dillon raised his head with an expression of dread. "Shopping trip?"

Scott had to bite back a laugh at how horrified Dillon sounded. "You need more clothes." Summer informed calmly. To Dillon's credit, though he paled noticeably, he didn't protest.

At the same time, Dr K was informing Ziggy that, "If you're going to be staying with us, you'll need to undergo basic training."

"Why?" Ziggy asked in confusion.

Scott stepped in before she could respond, because K had a habit of wording things in just the way most likely to set off tempers. "It's uncommon," Scott said, "But sometimes VENJIX drones do find their way here while we're out fighting. The base has defenses, of course, but if you're staying here, it's best if you can fight them off."

"I undergo the same training every month." Dr K added.

Ziggy frowned briefly then shrugged. "Okay." He said.

Scott was left blinking. "Wait, just like that?"

"I dislike having nothing to do. That's why I did all of this." Ziggy waved a hand at the rest of the room, making Scott realize abruptly that the kitchen was looking much neater then it had when Scott went to bed yesterday.

While he looked around in surprise, Flynn's heavy brogue suddenly asked from behind him, "Wha' time is i'?" he looked over to see Flynn staring at them, running a hand through his hair in bemusement.

"Nearly 8." Ziggy informed.

Flynn stared at Scott with burly eyes. "Ye're up." He finally muttered in surprise.

Scott shrugged. "There's pancakes and coffee. I never stood a chance." He paused then added as Flynn stumbled into an empty chair. "Nice hickey."

Flynn scowled at him. "Shu' up, Scott." H muttered half-heartedly, but he didn't bother to adjust his collar to hide the bruise. He did perk up noticeably when he was given breakfast.

-0—0-

Ziggy liked it here.

The Garage was comfortable. The room he'd been given was free from psychic echoes, though the rest of the building was soaked through with the scents of the others; it gave the place a quiet, warm feeling that was easy to relax into. It also helped that Summer's plants were well on their way to taking over, so the place always smelled nice.

The company wasn't bad either. The team didn't seem to mind him being here and he did get along rather well with Dillon, whatever the older man said about being Pack. And the big plus was they didn't have any problems dealing with and shrugging off the bits of Allure he couldn't leash without giving himself a headache.

He walked over to the passenger side of Dillon's car. Dillon himself was standing in front of the driver's door, tapping anxiously on the hood as he waited for the others. One would think he was going to his death for all the enthusiasm he had. "It's just a shopping trip. Why do you look like you're about to faint?"

Dillon stopped tapping and gave him an irritated look. "I have a sister. I know what shopping trip means."

_Don't laugh_, he told himself firmly. But even biting his cheek, he couldn't stop his wide grin. "I thought your sister was blind."

"Blind, yes. Friendless, _no_."

He couldn't help but snort at Dillon's hopeless tone because the image that conjured was too much. Dillon glared at him but the look was ruined by how pleased he seemed with Ziggy's amusement. And, wow, but wasn't that new. Ziggy had never had a friend he could make happy just by being happy himself. Then again, the only real Pack he'd had was his mother, and she'd died when he was ten.

Being Predator Pack made sure he thought about not having a Pack all the damn time; also being Passive NonPack made the thoughts bearable.

He became aware abruptly of people staring at him. He didn't move, instead shifting his attention from Dillon to the rest of the Garage, and found Scott, Summer, and Flynn descending the stairs. He held in his sigh and shifted his body away from the in-between towards Dea al Mon. Not fully, just enough so he registered as Woodland Kin instead of Demon Kind, enough that his eyes burned with the change, enough that his senses sharpened to Predator levels. Dillon looked at him in surprise when he noticed the change but Ziggy paid him little mind. He knew Dillon suspected him of being Dea al Mon and he didn't really care if the man knew about that part of his bloodline.

He just needed to know if the others had noticed his slip-up that morning.

"…only one who noticed it?" Scott was asking.

"I noticed." Summer said. "The heat definitely increased when Dillon came in."

He tensed. They'd noticed. He hadn't meant to, but he felt safe here and, unfathomably, he trusted Dillon; combined, that made his control half-assed at best and not responding to the attraction in Dillon's eyes impossible.

Still, the last thing he wanted was to give the others enough clues to figure out what his Demon Kind bloodline was. Not that he thought they'd do anything about it. This wasn't the Cartel, this wasn't the streets; what he was didn't control what he did here. But they would tell Dillon. He liked Dillon; He didn't want the man's opinion of him to change.

"Ziggy? What's wrong?" Dillon was asking, drawing his attention away from the conversation.

"Nothing." He said quickly.

On the bottom floor now, Flynn had finished saying something he hadn't caught. There was a moment of silence from the three that made him briefly edgy. Then Scott said jovially, "20 buck says they're courting within two months."

Wait, what?

"Ye know bettah than to be' with me." Flynn said while Summer agreed, "Deal."

Ziggy took a deep breath, let it out in a relieved rush. If they focused on the tension between Dillon and him, they might ignore everything that happened because of it. He could work with that. He shifted back to his usual in-between state as the others reached them; he gave Dillon a reassuring smile as Scott clapped the older man on the shoulder. "Ready for this?" Scott asked. It was just what was needed to drag Dillon's attention away from Ziggy.

"Define ready." Dillon answered moodily.

Ziggy smiled at the tone and hopped into the car. He liked Dillon's car; the man's scent had soaked into the leather; it was a scent he'd come to associate with safety this past week. At this point, he didn't even notice the VENJIX taint anymore. "Ready?" he asked.

Dillon looked over with dark eyes. There was friendliness there, but also a very physical appreciation. "Ready." Dillon agreed; and you know what else Ziggy liked? Dillon's voice. It was very deep, in a way that settled heavy and warm in his blood. It made him wonder what would happen if he kissed the other man.

_Ack, no, stop that! Bad thoughts! _He thought sharply, even as he smiled winningly at Dillon and settled further into the seat. Dillon was a Berserker; Berserker's were monogamous; thus, no sex with Dillon. In his opinion, no sex was worth dealing with the consequences of a Mate Claim.

It was a shame too. Dillon really was quite cute.

-0-0-

"What are those?" Dr K demanded the minute Marcus entered the lab. Since Marcus had spent the last year working with her, he didn't even flinch at her harsh, demanding tone and instead continued striding forward like nothing had happened. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't already have a theory about the files he had tucked under one arm.

"Files from Father for your consideration for candidacy." Marcus finally answered, setting them on her desk with a flourish. She glared at the files like they were some sort of parasite waiting to devour her. Now that she could see the insignia on the files, she knew exactly what they were. Her theory had been right. They were the military men the Colonel had worked with the past year and thought could handle the Ranger gear. "I don't need more military. I already have one and he's handful enough."

"Scott resigned from the military." Marcus pointed out, though he seemed amused. They'd all at some point told her this, even Scott himself, mostly because she had to keep reminding them that she already had a military man giving her his opinion. Why they thought she was always refering to Scott she had no idea.

"Who said I was talking about Scott?" K demanded. Marcus paused and blinked rapidly, obviously thrown, then grinned, bright-eyed.

"Oh Doc, I didn't know you cared."

Before she could say something in response, the sound of the Rangers returning filled the Garage. She nearly sighed in relief.

Marcus took a few steps back and peered through the doorway to the rest of the Garage. Whatever he saw made him grin. Probably some antic by Scott and Summer. "Father said Grover's moved in." Marcus commented and looked back at her. "Are you considering him for Ranger candidacy?"

She looked over at him, frowning intensely. "No. Why would I?"

Marcus rolled his eyes like she was being dumb. She took offense to that; that was her look. "Well, let's see. He's already Kane's Pack. He doesn't mind Flynn. The others like him. He already lives here."

"He makes the twins nervous." She interceded.

Marcus nodded and kept going. "That means that from what they've seen of him, they think he's strong enough to pose a challenge."

"We don't know what he is." She snapped.

Marcus did have a comeback for that, she could see it in his face, but whatever it was got interrupted by Scott's entrance. "Marcus!" the younger brother greeted gleefully and enveloped Marcus n a hug.

"Scott," she called over their greetings. "Please tell Grover to change into proper exercising attire and meet me in the training room." she stood up and made to leave before pausing and adding, "Marcus, please inform the Colonel I appreciate the help but at this time I do not require his assistance." That said, she moved calmly out of the room.

A few minutes later, Ziggy joined her. As if to once again prove her theory that the world was always on Marcus's side in their arguments, Ziggy was wearing a green shirt. Admittedly, it wasn't very green; it looked like it had been through the wash too many times and thus had lost most of its color. However, it was still undeniably green. That, when combined with Kane's seeming unwillingness to work with the candidates she'd selected, caused her to throw her metaphorical hands up and started the tests she'd originally used a year ago to test candidate physical qualification.

"Where are we starting?" Ziggy asked, looking around. "You should know I'm wicked good with a knife."

"I'll be the judge of that." She snapped. "I need to establish a baseline from which to train you. We'll start with endurance."

Ziggy was watching her uneasily now. "I don't think I'm going to like this." Dr K glared at him.

Scott joined them roughly half an hour later. His eyes had the over bright look they got when he was getting along with his family. "How are things going?" he asked, stepping up next to her.

"His strength needs work." She informed.

Scott hummed, watching Ziggy work his way through another task. "He's not built for strength. Best just work on his speed." Scott advised after a moment.

She sighed. "Are you going to hover for the rest of this?"

"Would you prefer Dillon hover?"

"I'd prefer it if no one hovered."

"Yeah, not happening." She bit back another sigh and returned her attention to the tests. Scott smiled triumphantly. If Ziggy had noticed the exchange, he wisely didn't mention it.

Two more tests later, she looked over and noticed Scott was watching Ziggy with a frown. It was no surprise, he probably recognized the tests; these were the same tests he had undergone a year ago. She managed to finish one more test before Scott stepped forward and told Ziggy to take a break. Ziggy paused and looked over at them with a confused expression. He had a faint flush and was breathing heavily; there were hints of sweat at his brow but otherwise he had been managing rather well. Scott smiled, "I need to talk to K about something. Go take a walk." Ziggy watched them with a frown but nodded and slowly walked out.

Scott waited another few seconds before walking over and closing the door. "I might be wrong, after all it's been a while, my memory might be a bit fuzzy," Scott told the door. "But, you know, I could have sworn those were the Ranger tests."

"I needed to establish a baseline."

Scott turned to her at last, looking baffled and disbelieving. "Rather difficult tests just to establish a baseline." He pointed out. "Just tell me: are we considering Ziggy for Ranger Green?"

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "It was your brother's idea." She grumbled.

"So, yes?" he waited until she nodded. "You were planning to mention this when?"

"I was going to mention it _if _he met the physical qualifications."

"Did he?" Scott asked curiously.

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know; you interrupted my tests." Scott grinned sheepishly. "However, if he continues his current scores, he'll rank in the lower percentile."

"He'll make it?"

Isn't that what she'd said? "Barely." She clarified. "He's going to need a lot of training."

"We can work with that." Scott said and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Need to talk to the rest of the team about this."

-0-0-

Summer watched Scott shuffle the twins into the lab and close the doors. Her and Flynn were already there; while Dr K's absence wasn't notable since she was still working with Ziggy, someone else was noticeably missing. "Where's Dillon?" she asked.

"We need to talk but I think Dillon might punch me." Scott answered, which didn't tell her anything.

"Scott, pretend for a second that we don't know what you're talking about. In fact, don't pretend."

Scott blinked at her in confusion for a second before replying, "What do you think about Ziggy being Ranger Green?"

She glanced over at the others to see if that really was as random as she thought it was. If their expression were anything to go by, then that had come even more left-field than was normal for Scott. "Ziggy? As Ranger Green? Since when were we considering that?"

"Since about two minutes ago." Scott answered. "It's Marcus's idea." Of course it was.

Scott turned towards the twins. "You two are the most uncomfortable with him. What do you think?"

The two glanced at each other. "He's…"

"…Nice?" The two said uncertainly. When Scott just stared, Gemma sighed and told them. "It's just that, there's the small chance we've agreed he might be… Dea al Mon."

"What?" Scott almost shouted and his expression would be funny if she wasn't sure she had the same one. "Are you sure? I thought we'd agreed he was Demon Kind."

The twins shook their heads as one. "He's only half Demon Kind." They said. "We are sure. He felt like-"

"Woodland Kin this morning, and his ears are-"

"Pointed, and he carries a-"

"lot of knives. Also, like tends to-"

"Calls to like." Gem paused then added, "Or at least that's the short version."

Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. "I wish I could say that explains things, but really, it doesn't. At all." He shook his head. "Ranger or not?"

"We get his training if he is." Gemma spoke before anyone else could. Like they wouldn't haveif they agreed. Scott nodded and looked at the others, taking that as their round-about approval.

"He's sweet." Summer said with a shrug. "If he can fight, I don't see why not."

"Hey," Flynn said, raising his hands. "Aye was onboard the minu' Aye learned he was Dillon's Pack. Honestly, wha' are the chances of tha' happening with another so quickly?"

"So, we're agreed." Scott said, sounding pleased.

"Yep." Summer agreed and took a bit too much glee when she next said, "Now who tells Dillon?"

Scott paused, looking a bit nervous. "Let's… talk to Ziggy first?" He suggested, making them laugh.

-0-0-

"Ziggy!"

Ziggy paused as he came down the stairs from his shower after his session with K when someone hissed out his name and looked around. Scott was standing in the doorway to the lab, making exaggerated, slow-motion 'come here' gesturers with his hands. Yeah, Scott was weird like that. He sighed and walked closer. "What is it?" he asked, just before Scott reached out lightning quick and grabbed his arm. Ziggy yelped as he was abruptly pulled into the lab. And, yes, his muscles hurt and his body protested every movement due to the training, but that didn't stop him from yanking out of Scott's grip, spinning away, and pulling out his knife, all within a few seconds. Some lessons learned on the streets you never forgot, like paranoia.

"Wow." Scott shouted, throwing both hands up.

"Nice reflexes." He heard from behind him, making him spin around again. The twins stared back, woodland eyes too sharp for his comfort. In fact, all the Rangers minus Dillon were there. Well, _fuck._

"It's okay, Ziggy. We just want to help." Summer told him, calm creeping over him. He resisted the urge to push back against it, because that would give him away quicker than anything.

"Where's Dillon?" He demanded.

"We wanted to talk to you." Summer said. "But there's the small fact that Dillon won't like it and might punch us." Ziggy stared at Summer, wondering if that was supposed to make him feel comforted.

"We have a proposition for you." Scott added. And, oh, wrong word, boyo.

He turned back to Scott, raising his knife to point at the older man despite how it made the twins tense. "Pick a different word." He ordered. "And do it quickly."

"You're taking offense to my word choice." Scott said, incredulous.

"Quite a bit, yes."

"How would you like to be Ranger Green?" Summer asked quickly from behind him.

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "Seriously?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and lowering the knife. Summer nodded. He looked back at Scott. "Seriously?" he asked again, even more incredulous.

"Yeah. If you put down the knife."

Ziggy slipped the knife away. "Why me?"

"Because Dillon likes you. And from what I saw yesterday with the other candidates, that's a very rare thing." Scott answered calmly. "And it's not like you can't fight. You just proved you've got the instincts for it."

"Okay. Why should I?"

Scott actually paused at that, frowning at Ziggy's amused look. He was pretty sure the man thought they were joking. He frowned in thought before smirking, "You dislike having nothing to do." He said.

Ziggy frowned at him as he recognized his own words. "I think I hate you." He said, though it was plenty obvious he didn't mean it.

Scott grinned. "You are going to fit right in."

"I didn't say yes." Ziggy snapped, but Scott merely raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?" he asked again, "And seriously this time." It wasn't that he really had any objections to it. He just wanted to know what they'd think of. Really, he'd probably take anything that wasn't _he owed them_.

"Because there's no reason you shouldn't." Scott answered sincerely. "And because we need your help."

Ziggy stared back then nodded. "Now, I'm saying yes." He muttered.

Scott visibly brightened and grinned. "Great. First order of business. You get to tell Dillon."


End file.
